It wasn't the fact that mum and dad were both blind that created poverty but..
By Esther
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I'm sure they must have lived on their nerves. There we were; three lively, inquisitive children who couldn't stop peeping or climbing into cupboards or onto chairs or escape out into the close. Of course our eye's didn't see dangers. Isn't the world of a child one to explore. Isn't it the task of the parent to allow exploring; but to know where the boundaries are.
We were a typical nuclear family. Mum remained at home; most mother's took on this role in the fifties so we really felt a normal family.
I've vague memories of being fostered by a young couple, who also lived in Harold Hill, whilst mum gave birth to my youngest brother. I recall a flat and toys everywhere. I was their only charge. I know they wanted to adopt me but of course I returned home to find the a new addition to the family.
Dad commuted to Chelmsford; he worked as a telephonist. I can still see him tapping his way down the close, where he taught me to ride my bike, thank you dad. I've used that special skill over years; until driving a car became essential.
I wonder if you saw my fears, from where ever you are, you see I can't accept life ends when that last breath is taken. Isn't life far to magical. It fits like a intricate jigsaw puzzle; only when the last piece is in place can we see the whole picture.
I don't understand, however, why people are born with disabilities anymore than why people are bad. Is it nature or nurture....who knows?
I cannot understand why our step-father beat his guide dog; with the lead used to guide him.
I cried a lot, usually beneath my sheets, hoping that someone somewhere would rescue us. All fairy-tales end with a positive resolution. For years it felt that our lives wouldn't end that way.
Poverty, then as now, sets people apart. Unless you have been affected by relative poverty then you probably will find it difficult to understand.
There still exists a negative view of family's who live on council estates. Imagine how it feels knowing that having nothing means you are seen as nothing.
I would walk past houses with neat gardens; that show-cased what lay behind shiny windows. I wondered what it would be like to feel part or a normal family. I wondered also what it would be like to still have my lovely dad. He wasn't a crazy alcoholic. He didn't spend all the National Assistance money on fags or demand the best of everything; whilst we had the dregs.
Nothing left to replace what was worn out. Nothing to find in self-esteem. If nothing is expected of you then of course nothing is given. This feeling is compounded; knowing that is what society also thinks.
I still feel the negative view or vulnerable people exists but know that this isn't true.
I have moved on with my life dad and think of you most days. I was lucky in that I knew love. So many children, adults to, don't know about love.
I think it took me a long time to get where I am today; my beautiful aunt, your sister of course, has made a huge difference to my life.
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Painful memories, Esther.
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touching Esther. And
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Such an emotive write,
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