In April of 1979, I turned five years old. The summer of 1979, my sister and I moved to Small Town Northern Ontario (‘The North’) to live with Jack’s sister, her husband, and their four children. I was over the moon at the prospect of living with family for a little while; I would go from having one sister to four! I remember Léa would visit us in Southern Ontario (‘The South’) in the summer to babysit, help my mom out, and spend time with her aunt and uncle.
My Aunt Anna’s house in The North is a modest brick and siding 2-story home. Anna purchased the house from her parents for $1 on her wedding day. The main floor layout was rather classic; you walk through the door and into a mudroom of sorts with a huge walk in coat closet a few steps away. The coat closet is sandwiched between the stairs leading to the basement and the entrance to the kitchen and main dining area; across from the kitchen/eating area is a living room, leading off the eating area is a hallway to one bathroom and four bedrooms. I remember the basement having a cold storage, the laundry area, a pool table, a sofa, and another bathroom lit by a greenish light shed by a naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The second floor contains a 2-bedroom apartment for my paternal grandparents and their dog Yappy.
My sister and I got Hélène and Jeanne’s room with bunk-beds. As the oldest, I slept on the top bunk. I remember feeling so excited to be sleeping so high up off the ground; as a kid, dad had us sleeping on mattresses on the floor in case we fell out of bed. Our bedroom was next to the linen closet, complete with laundry shoot, which I always wanted to slide down, but I was watched like a hawk and never able to. Hélène and Jeanne took the bedroom at the end of the hallway; across from my temporary bedroom was Léa’s room. I am not sure where Doris slept. Maybe all the girls bunked together to make space for us; these are not the memories that keep me up at night. Behind the dining area at the other end of the hall is where Anna and her husband Bruno slept.
Doris is the oldest of my cousins; I think she was in her early 20s when we moved in. I remember her being obsessed with her eyebrows. She spent hours at the kitchen table with her plug-in mirror plucking and applying make-up in preparation for her date with her long-time boyfriend, Aaron. I do not remember Doris spending a lot of time at home or with my sister and me. I cannot blame her; I would not want to entertain a 2.5 year old and a 5 year old when I could spend time with my friends instead.
Jeanne is the second oldest of my cousins and I think she was in her late teens when I moved in. I idolized Jeanne as a child, she was stunningly gorgeous; she spent hours in the large back yard in her tiny black bikini working on her tan. I’ve always been jealous of her tanned skin, long legs, long hair, and perfect figure. She used to let me tag along with her often. Jeanne loved to downhill ski and would also take me on long bike rides.
Hélène was in her mid-teens when we moved in. She always seemed so happy and giggly. She also had a boyfriend, Kyle who would come over to visit. I remember we used to have pillow fights in the living room – some of my best memories, until I was made to feel shame for having tickle fights with Kyle by C.I. No2 (a few years later). Hélène was a very kind teenager who genuinely cares (and still does) about the well-being of others; a quality I really admire.
Léa is 9 years older than I am and about 13 or 14 when we moved in with her family. Léa used to push me on her skateboard when she visited us in The South. She is also beautiful and very petite, she reminds me of a real life Barbie doll. Léa had a very difficult and trauma-filled life, and today, is making much progress in her healing.
I loved having this large family and living with the girls. I felt really close to them, like we were all sisters. Dad would occasionally drive up from The South on weekends to visit. He would sleep upstairs on my grandparent’s pullout couch. On one occasion, he happened to be present when my mother called to check in on us – I think Sundays were her ‘day’ to call and speak to us. I do not recall my mother visiting us in The North while we stayed with Anna and Bruno; I only remember weekly phone calls until one day they completely stopped. As was the norm, when my mother called I would spend a lot of time crying and telling her how much I missed her and wanted to see her.
I was in The North without either of my parents, the ones I had spent my entire first five years with and I desperately missed my mom. I did not understand why I could not see her, or why she could not come to The North and get me. After witnessing the tears, the begging, and hearing how much I missed my mother, my father decided she was no longer permitted to have contact with us because it was too upsetting. I do not think I spoke to or saw my mother for nearly 2 years.
Life with my aunt and uncle was a lot of fun, in the beginning. They knew everyone on the street, my grandparents lived upstairs, so I saw them everyday; and I could tend my grandfather’s garden with him, which brought memories of home to my day. Back home, in The South, I was not allowed to leave my yard unless it was to visit next door. My grandpa liked to grow many herbs for natural teas and home remedies; he was especially fond of mint. The only downside was Yappy. I hated that dog. I hated the dog because she was terrifying! She was a small Chihuahua who had ice blue coloured eyes (she was mostly blind but I did not know that as a kid), so she spent all her time barking and acting aggressively toward anyone who did not live in that apartment. I remember, the first thing I would do after greeting my grandparents with hugs and kisses was run to the back room and kick Yappy’s box super hard before she had a chance to come bark at me. I was probably asserting my dominance on Yappy, much like Gary would do with his dog Scotty (Chasing Butterflies). Yappy was not a family dog, in fact, she did not like children at all.
As time went on, I spent more and more time with Bruno. He worked at a local mine in town and I remember him loving Country music and motorcycles; his daily ride was a van. The mining company owned a campground in town and only permitted their employees to have camping spots to enjoy the lake in the summer months with their family. Bruno and Anna had converted an old full size yellow school bus to an RV. To date, this was my favourite summer ever. It feels like we spent July to August at the campground, where I rode my bike, went hiking, played in the water, explored swamps, chased frogs and found toads. At night, we chased fireflies, fed chipmunks, and roasted marshmallows by the campfire. My life seemed almost perfect – carefree, I felt safe, loved, and secure.
From what I managed to piece together after listening to both my mother and my father over the years, and later finding the divorce papers; is that my parents were going through a bitter divorce while I was living up North in 1979/1981. Monique stayed with her parents until she was able to find a job and get back on her feet. The divorce was happening in The South because that is where the matrimonial property and children were. My mother fought hard for custody but lost. Not surprising since she had no friends, no family, no witnesses to anything and no way to prove or support her side, given that she spent 10 years isolated and fearing for her life and family’s safety. My father on the other hand was able to parade several individuals in front of the judge along with several of his ‘Secret Agent’ friends. In 1981, I assure you it was easy to show the judge just who was boss and wore the pants; especially since he was established, owned 4 properties in The North, in addition to a home in The South, a stable long term job - protecting his country! What was his wife doing? Well, she was at home, not working, taking care of the children.
Monique never stood a chance. My father was in it to win and he played dirty. By the end of this court ordeal, my mother had nothing but $30,000 as her divorce settlement. [Money, to this day, he claims was STOLEN from ‘us’; personally I think he got off really easy, financially.] When Monique left Jack in February 1979, she did not even take any of her personal belongings with her. Monique had no rights to her children, no possessions and had no set visitation agreement because Jack was in charge of everything. He would be solely responsible for his children’s financial, emotional, and physical well-being from this point forward and “fuck Monique for leaving. We were happy, had she stayed, we would still be happy. She never should have left us because she had everything – I gave her everything!” <-- this would become Jack’s mantra over the next 40 years. Jack would graciously agree to allow his ex-wife visitation if she sent a letter by registered mail, no less than 14 days prior to her desired visitation date. She would also have to provide the contact information of the property where she would be taking HIS children, and he would also have to approve her travel companion.
My mother did not agree with this decision and decided to take her case to Québec court. She lost. She would not be able to seek sole custody in her home province and the judge had no choice but to uphold the Ontario judge’s decision. I believe this had to do with jurisdiction, and possibly the fact that she did have mental health issues (postpartum, I also firmly maintain PTSD), and so was not in a position to rescue her children from the villain in her life. She chose to make the best of a bad situation and after Jack had settled in The North (1981) she was allowed to see her children.
My dad’s version of the divorce outcome is very different – shocking, I know. I’ve known from the time my father picked us up from the hospital that my mother was, from his point of view, the absolute scum of the earth. “She had $2,000 in the house at all times, she didn’t need to work. She would go shopping and buy one pair of pants in all the available colours. She used to beat you up so badly every day, even your grandparents knew it. Your grandparents told me she beat you in the bathroom. She never fed you, you were always a burden to her. She would spend her days yelling and screaming at you that she just wanted to be left alone and have PEACE AND QUIET! She would put food outside for you on the garbage can. Look, even Gary and Irene wrote letters to the judge so I would get custody. Your grandparents did too. Ask your mother’s sister what she told the judge in Québec. Your own grandfather told your aunt that under no circumstance should your mother get custody because I was the responsible parent. She left us. She abandoned us. Had she just stayed with us, we would be happy. I had plans for a house I was going to build for our family after I retired from The Force”.
Later, the compliments got better as I got older. I remember always being compared to my mother "you look exactly like her." Compliments were often followed by "your mother was a whore, she slept around, she always needed so much attention, when we'd go out in public if she heard someone whistling she had to spin around looking to see who was whistling at her. See, that's how vain your mother is."
When he did finally move to The North, he packed every
single possession my mother had ever touched, owned, and stored it in one of
the garages at one of his properties.
Everything she ever owned. For years. I heard that solely Monique was responsible
for their divorce because she had also been unfaithful with “my partner Derek,
her doctor, a Chinaman, your uncle, and…” the baker, and the candlestick maker.
The common thread in this narrative is that he is perfect and she abandoned him
and his children for no good reason at all. If she were to come back, he would
drop his entire life like a hot potato and RUN towards her. Monique on the
other hand? She would gladly lock the door on this chapter of her life with him in it and light that shit on fire. I see merit in that fantasy some days and I honestly don’t blame
her one bit. I cannot tell you how many times Jack told me my mother was crazy,
a whore, an abuser, and that she STOLE MONEY FROM HIM. The reason he fought for custody, according to him, is because my mother would have bled him dry wanting money (child support).
Monique was lucky to get away. I wish she had been successful in her bid for sole custody.
Just joining me and want to start at the beginning of this story? Please visit my page titled Family followed by The Early Years : 1974-1979.
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