Love Is In the Journey

by Danielle Augustine

Overview

What was supposed to be a day at the park with my son ended up to be the day that would change the course of so many lives, some for the worst, and some for the better. Instead of giving him a bath before bed I was watching him fight for his life. As the years unfolded I discovered the true meaning of love, faith, struggle, fear, and most of all hope. I had a front row seat to watch life’s unpredictability, a crash course in the delicacy life holds for all of us. Out of tragedy the perfect person was reborn. A person who only knew how to truly enjoy life and what it had to offer good or bad. There was no agenda, no hate, no greed, or dishonesty; just love. This story is about the journey my son took us on. Only a person with a pure heart can carry those who hold money and power over humanity. It is a story of a boy, who was able to make a difference without money, fame or social media. He made a difference with his ability to bring people together, to overcome adversity and political abuse. Abuse that unfortunately exists in a corrupt system that we are all a part of. It is a journey of love, lies, deception and triumph. Through this journey this book was born.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781504369466
Publisher:	Balboa Press
Publication date:	04/13/2017
Pages:	200
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.42(d)

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CHAPTER 1

The Beginning

MY LIFE WAS far from uneventful. I hit many tough spots while growing up, but somehow I always managed to pull through. I was the youngest of eleven children, six sisters and four brothers. My firstborn brother passed away from blood poisoning at twelve weeks old due to an unclean instrument used during circumcision. I remember growing up and watching my mom every May 29 mourn the loss of her firstborn son. She would go about her day doing all her chores, I could feel her pain and loss, but it was not until I grew up and went on to have my own children that I truly connected with her grief.

My father passed on at age fifty-one from cancer, when I was nine years old. The bubble I was living in as a child was broken, and life before would never be the same again. His passing for me meant much loss, pain, and confusion. The days after his passing, I began forming a shell for my own protection. I no longer had the love and security he gave to me when he was alive; I felt deserted by his death. My father was my world, and he always looked out for me, especially when I was around many of my much older siblings, who did not have time for me because they were married and had their own families. I was considered Daddy's little girl. Although I liked the attention he showed me, I was no {Prima Donna!}

One of my older brothers was married to a great wife whom he met while he was in the navy. He had three children, and they moved to Long Island so he could build homes. With my father now gone, my big brother decided to take over his role as head of household. Big mistake! This is when things started to change for the worst. My father was the one who enforced the rules. Although he was a great role model, he had his own standards for raising his children with some degree of discipline — but not where abuse was any part of it. As the youngest, I always felt protected by my father. That was about to change!

After Dad's passing, Mom became distraught, which was understandable. My oldest sister and her daughter lived with us. They moved in after my sister had a nervous breakdown due to the breakup of her marriage. I didn't mind because my niece was the same age as me; we were like sisters. My brother Frankie was also still living at home. Frankie was mildly, mentally disabled. Do to his disability he had a very special relationship with Mom. Oh, how he adored her! The problem was now Mom was getting older and dealing with a headstrong nine-year-old girl. Big brother would come in for visits and to check on things. Mom started occasionally shipping me off to my brother's home in Long Island. He would approach me and stick his finger in my face while telling me to walk the straight line in his infamous harsh tone that we were accustomed to by now.

Without Dad around, life was different. I usually went to my best friend Carol's house whenever my brother came over in order to stay out of his way and avoid his wrath. I spent many hours with her mother and father, and I felt very safe there. My other siblings knew of his behavior, and so did Mom. They were aware of his outbursts of anger toward me and his wife, but there were no repercussions. What it boiled down to was that no one in my family at the time was willing to step up to the plate and confront him. Most of the time I fended for myself. My brother was like a caged animal let out to roam after Dad's passing.

Time passed, and I survived my young childhood until my teens. I kept myself in survival mode, and was always on guard when it came to big brother. My brother was still coming to the house, but I was older now and was able to avoid many of his visits. I was fortunate but not out of the woods. I was not always able to escape the abuse of my brother. His physical choice of abuse was to choke me, resulting in me passing out. There was no sexual abuse involved. Mom knew about it but did not do anything to stop him, So many times I felt my days were numbered; I did not believe I was going to make it to my eighteenth birthday. I had always had that number in my head, and I believed if I passed it, I would be safe and out of his sadistic clutches. My goal was to save myself. I guess that was my safety net back then, holding on to hope so I could keep up my survival mode without giving up.

Be strong and courageous, all you who put hope in the Lord! (Psalm 31:24)

At the age of fifteen, I went to my neighborhood police station and begged them to lock me up so Big Brother couldn't get to me. I explained to them what my brother was doing to me during his visits. They reached out to him, gave him a strict warning, and sent me home. I begged them to keep me at the station, but the police assured me I was going to be okay. I was resentful for their lack of securing my safety when I was so fearful of my brother. They were the ones who were supposed to be there to protect me. The police station was six blocks from my home, and the captain lived right around the corner. All that protection around me, and yet I was still in harm's way. Figure that one out! For me, that was the start of the system failing.

Things were quiet for a few weeks. Then Big Brother came to visit Mom, and I was on guard for him to go off about my visit to the police station. Sure enough, he walked in and showed his wrath, yelling directly at me and saying, "Were you a good girl today?" This time it was different.

My older sister was at the table sewing clothes. By now she developed into a tough cookie. She jumped up from the table holding a pair of scissors in her hand and told him to leave me alone, or else she was going to hurt him. She told him he should pay the consequences for his past behavior toward me, and he should never touch me again. From that day forward, Big Brother backed off, and my sister became my hero. Although grateful, I was still afraid of him, and I was going to stay in survival mode until my eighteenth birthday. I believed if I reached this goal, it would be a great achievement. Growing up into my adulthood, I had issues resulting from my brother's abuse. This left me with an eating and swallowing disorder. I also had severe anxiety that led me to using paper bags and an inhaler to breathe due to a lack of oxygen. Fortunately, I was able to address these issues by seeking medical care and counseling to cope.

I was living quietly until he shattered me. He took me by the neck and broke me in pieces. Then he set me up as his target, and now his archers surround me. (Job 16:12-13)

I love you, Lord, you are my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my savior, my God is my rock, in whom I find protection. He is my shield, the power that saves me, and my place of safety. I called on the Lord, who is worthy of praise, and he saved me from my enemies. (Psalm 18:1-2-3)

CHAPTER 2

My First Love

IT WAS 1964 when I met the love of my life. He was twenty-four, and I was seventeen. I enjoyed spending many of my summers going to my favorite theme park, Coney Island. I loved the rides and the freedom of going to the nearby beach with my friends. There was an arcade near the park, and I often hung around there. This was where my first love and I met. He was quite handsome with black hair and beautiful deep brown eyes. It was love at first sight for the both of us. When my siblings found out about our relationship, they were not happy about it because he was older than me and of Spanish descent, but I continued to see him anyway. It wasn't long after that I found out I was pregnant.

My love was previously married with no children. He and his ex-wife had parted ways; she was a very mature and refined lady, a class act. She had much more than I had going for me back then. They say wisdom comes with age, and she had plenty of that. I was younger, and our age difference showed that. When I reflect back on my past encounters with the ex-wife, she was rooting for me. She was not able to have children of her own, so when she found out I was pregnant, she was actually happy for me. That is what being a caring person is about. She loved her ex-husband enough to wish him the best. She told me to move on with my life and take good care of my child when she or he was born. The short time we connected was a powerful experience, and I will never forget it. God bless her, wherever she is.

I moved out of my home for a short time and found an apartment down the block from my mom's house with reasonable rent. I was going to move in with my baby's father because the pressure put on me from my family about my pregnancy, and them alienating me from the love of my life, was too much. He was so happy we were going to be together, but that did not last long. After several months, I made the decision to move back home with my mom and brother Frankie. Mom was not feeling well, and the pressure was on me to take care of her despite being pregnant. My love was very upset I was going back home, but I felt guilty about Mom being ill.

As the months passed, my pregnancy was progressing. My second oldest brother was voicing some very hurtful remarks to me for having my baby out of wedlock. The pressure of staying home became too much for me; I was always under their thumb. This time Mom stepped up to the plate, unlike when I was being abused by Big Brother. She told me when I was alone with her one day not to feel bad because my brother also had a child out of wedlock. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!

CHAPTER 3

The Arrival of My Baby Boy

AT EIGHTEEN I gave birth to a son, whom I named Daniel. What a beautiful gift! He was seven pounds, five ounces of pure love and joy. I was thankful to God for pulling me through. My family was still not happy with me having a child with my love. Back in the 1960s, there were people who had their opinions and prejudices, and unfortunately it is still going on today. My best friend Carole being gay knew all about these people, and not having their stamp of approval.

After my son's birth, I was going through hard times following the decision I had made: my son was to have no contact with his father because of my family's negative feelings against him and alienation toward me. After staying home for many months, Mom convinced me to go out with my friends while she stayed home and watched Daniel; she said I needed some downtime. I realized she felt bad for me being so confused and unhappy. I was lonely and still in love with my son's father. I know one thing for sure: one day when the time came for me to leave this earth, I would have known what true love between a man, a woman, and a child was all about. I was so gifted to have been able to experience this magical time in my life. What a beautiful thought to take with me on the day I take my final breath on this earth.

Daniel's father and I drifted apart from my own regretful decisions I made due to my siblings' continual interference in my life. To this day, I still carry my first love close to my heart, and he will forever be my soul mate and a part of the creation of my precious son.

Not long after I started going out, I met a man my age, nineteen. Ironically, he had the same name as my son's father. I continued to see him; I guess it would be called dating, but I called it hanging out. Mom approved of him, and so did the family because he seemed like the all-American boy. Everything seemed good, but the problem was I did not love him. I continued to see him and took my family's advice to marry him when my son was seven months old. He had a large family of sisters and brothers, and they were opposed to him marrying me with a child. I think back to that time and reflect on all their hurtful remarks. I would ask, "Why would anyone want to stop someone from raising an innocent child?" I guess they had prejudice against my son, just as my family did for Daniel's father. They looked at their brother like he was above me and my son, because he and his brothers came from a family of iron workers, who were looked upon as the elite back in those days. They believed my son and I were not good enough for him. I truly felt more pity for them than anger. Daniel was an innocent human being. These people did not deserve to share in his life. SHAME, SHAME, on them all.

Are we all not children of the same father? Are we not created by the same God? Then why do we betray each other violating the convent of our ancestors? (Malachi 2:10)

Then he says to them, anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me also welcomes my father who sent me. Whoever is the least among you is the greatest. (Luke 9:48)

Several years into my marriage, I reconnected with Daniel's father. I was not in love with my husband. It was not long into my marriage before I found out he had a gambling and drinking problem. It became clear to me that before I married him, there were many skeletons hidden in his family's closets. All of his four brothers also had gambling and drinking addictions. The people in the glass houses always seem to be the ones who throw the stones. I believed at that time I was justified to reconnect with my son's father because of the farce of a marriage I was in. It turned out my son would pay the price for that decision. Daniel was reaching his third birthday, and I was fully aware I married for all the wrong reasons. I thought he could give me a good life and didn't realize he carried so much baggage. Mr. Right turned out to be Mr. Wrong, and I wanted out at any cost.

"That is the whole story here now is my final conclusion," fear God and obey his commands for that is everyone's duty. God will judge us for everything we do including every secret thing we do good or bad. (Ecclesiastes 12:13–14)

As the marriage continued, my mother regretted having given me input on marrying him. Mom witnessed how unhappy I was by his actions whenever he was in her company. She wanted love and happiness for Daniel and I, and this man was never going to fit the bill. All I needed was to be back with my first love, whom I missed so much.

CHAPTER 4

The Accident

IT WAS TUESDAY, June 7, 1968. This was the day Daniel's and my world fell apart. It was an unusually hot day. I was going to meet my son's father, and we were going to reunite. Happily ever after, I thought. I had planned it for many months. We were both excited to finally be able to come together again after so much heartache in our lives. I thought it was meant to be, and we would reconnect our love again.

I had already packed my bags and had written my husband a letter — I guess one would call it a Dear John letter. I was not overly concerned because it was a chance for me and my son to discover the real love and happiness we deserved. I hoped my husband would find the help he needed for his gambling addiction. If he didn't, he was never going to live a fruitful life as long as he carried his demons around that also included carousing with women. I had witnessed this behavior for two and a half years, and I resented him for it. I certainly did not sign up for it. My husband went off to his job that morning, and I had made plans to take my son to the local park; I had promised him we would have lunch there. I would then still have time to go home, grab my bags, and go. A few weeks prior to that day, Mom was released from the hospital, and my sisters and I were taking turns to help her out. This day in June was not my turn. All I wanted was to fulfill my son's wishes to go to the park and run in the sprinklers. I wanted to return home early enough to avoid any confrontation before my husband returned from work. I left my apartment and had about nine blocks to walk.

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Love Is In the Journey"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Danielle Augustine.
Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgments, ix,
Introduction, xiii,
Chapter 1 The Beginning, 1,
Chapter 2 My First Love, 5,
Chapter 3 The Arrival of My Baby Boy, 7,
Chapter 4 The Accident, 10,
Chapter 5 The Hospital, 15,
Chapter 6 The Turnaround, 18,
Chapter 7 The Awakening, 26,
Chapter 8 End of Rehab, 34,
Chapter 9 Daniel's Strong Will to Recover, 38,
Chapter 10 Baby's Arrival, 41,
Chapter 11 Back Home, 44,
Chapter 12 The Start of the System, 46,
Chapter 13 The Move, 50,
Chapter 14 The Other Woman, 52,
Chapter 15 Daniel's Surgery, 57,
Chapter 16 Daniel Entering the System, 62,
Chapter 17 Daniel's Wish, 65,
Chapter 18 The Final Decision, 76,
Chapter 19 The New Journey, 97,
Chapter 20 Coming Back Home, 108,
Chapter 21 Another New Beginning, 124,
Chapter 22 The Case, 129,
Chapter 23 Another Bombshell, 132,
Chapter 24 A Rollercoaster of Emotions, 137,
Chapter 25 Injustice, 144,
Chapter 26 A Mother's Worst Nightmare, 148,
Chapter 27 Holding on to Hope, 152,
Chapter 28 What Happened to Compassion?, 157,
Chapter 29 Hope Finally Arrived, 161,
Man Walking to Light, 167,
Missing You, 169,
Alone, 170,
Best Friend's Memorial Letter to Daniel, 171,
The Medium, 173,
My New Life, 176,
Conclusion, 179,
Post Script, 182,
Final Scripture, 183,