But How Can I forget You, When There Is Always Something Here To Remind Me

Today is my daughter Sarah’s birthday.

Every year for sixteen years around this time I can’t help but remember.

It was just an ordinary day. I woke up, took a bath, had breakfast went off to work with my motorbike.

At work it went as always: coffee break at ten. Lunch at twelve. Another coffee break at three and by five I’m done.

It was almost winter, it got customary dark after four; I’m used to that already. It didn’t bother me anymore.

Instead of going by the industrial terrain I have chosen to take the other route, the one that cut through the fields of giant corns. There were no houses around but I knew the place like the back of my hand. I always drive through there to go home especially during the summer to avoid the big trucks that populated the industrial zone. Last year, one of them drove me and my bike into the ditch leaving me with a broken arm.

Headlights appeared behind me. I moved over to the side to let the vehicle pass. It didn’t. Car door opened and before I knew what was happening I was pushed to the ground faced down. I felt a sharp object against my neck. My jeans was pulled round my knees. I couldn’t move. There was something heavy on my back.

I felt blinding pain. I must have passed out because I knew nothing of what happened next. When I woke up I was alone on that lonely, dark freezing road aching.

I took a long shower when I got home. I doubted my sanity for a while. I quit my job and moved away. I never told anyone.

Nine months later, my daughter Sarah was born.   

crying-in-shower

45 thoughts on “But How Can I forget You, When There Is Always Something Here To Remind Me”

  1. I don’t know what to say. I read this 20 minutes ago and could not figure out anything so I have to merely repeat V. and say you are one incredible, amazing tough woman. Definitely a survivor and definitely a hero. And a friend. Hugs

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  2. I haven’t been following your blog for very long, but I am always blown away at the power of your words, especially your strength in sharing things from your past.

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  3. I truly admire your strength and courage! You are an amazing person and Sarah’s hero and mine too.

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  4. It’s sickening to note that you were injured and instead of helping, that sicko took advantage. Does Sarah know this? How does she take it? I am asking because there’s a lesson to learn for all of us here. It takes immense courage to isolate the incident and love the person for they are – to accept and be with each other without the baggage of what happened. You are a survivor, a hero and a very strong person. Hats off to you for coping up with what happened, taking charge and emerging a winner. I don’t what i would have done. I have no idea what it is… to experience such testing times, to face those challenges. This narration shook me up. Sarah is very lucky to have you as her mom.

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    1. She’s innocent. I want to keep it that way. I don’t mean to make people uncomfortable. Just like I said on my side bar, I blog to exorcise ghosts and let the skeletons out the closet and occasionally let them dance naked.
      Thank you for reading and for the sympathy.

      Liked by 2 people

  5. A very moving post. I can’t imagine what it would be like looking at the beautiful daughter you love and being reminded of that horrible attack all in the same moment. You are an inspiring lady!

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      1. after reading this chilling blog post, and all of the comments, i am chosing to respond here, to this your comment above.
        “getting used to the idea” after 16 years. getting used to the idea that extreme violence against your person, the taking of your free will, and the birth of your daughter as two seperate incidents. you never told anyone. one can hardly imagine the pain you have been through, yet the bravery and courage you have now, to face the world wide web.

        it puts your blog into perspective.

        it puts life and everything into perspective.

        it makes us all, your readers, sober for a moment, sober with shock …..

        thank you for your bravery in sharing this terrible terrible time.

        and yet out of such horror your bore a daughter and raised her with love. although she is innocent, she is strong, because you are her mother.

        you have entered the privelege of motherhood through grossly difficult times. some thing that most of us take for granted, to become a mother, to raise and love our children, is always, for you, haunted by events of the past..

        you make us humble. i salute you, salute your courage.

        this man will have his karma, i believe.

        may you be blessed with goodness and wonder, every day.

        may “happy birthday” from now on in be only a thing of joy and may all traces of this terrible time be erased from your memory, bit by slow bit, let it go. its not worth it any more, please let it go…..

        and live the rest of your life in joy.

        sorry for writing so long words and so much.

        may contentment fill your days on earth. may sarah be blessed with wonders.

        Liked by 1 person

  6. I re-read it and hoped that it was fiction. It makes me hate the fact that I belong to the other half of the world – the half that has such creatures that shouldn’t have been given the right to walk on earth. I am so sorry that it happened. You decided to bring your daughter into the world, which makes your bond with her so much stronger. Bless you both.

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  7. it is definitely not easy to share something like this so thank you for being so open with us and sharing your past. you have courageous and amazing. i’m so glad to have across your site and be inspired by you. happy birthday to your daughter and i hope both of you are having a lovely week ❤

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