Nearly Normal
Page 29
Kevin is dead now, taken by pancreatic cancer just five weeks after he was diagnosed at the age of forty-seven. We barely talked after our divorce, but his death still hit me hard. I think about the secrets we kept from each other in our twisted struggle for power. They say you don’t take anything with you, but that’s not necessarily so. You take your secrets with you, leaving empty holes in the pages of your life and, sometimes, the hearts of your loved ones. I still wonder what my mother and grandparents took with them.
I’ve passed more judgment on myself than anyone else possibly could. By including these stories in my second memoir, I’m making a statement to everyone—but mostly, to myself—that I will no longer live in shame.
I think about my meeting with Adrienne at the literary festival, nearly a year ago now. I tried to find her after my reading, but she’d disappeared. I wanted to thank her again for reaching out to me, talk to her more about the things she remembered better than me or knew that I didn’t, but that she was gone seemed fitting. Since my first book came out, I’ve learned plenty of new things about myself, but, with the exception of what came out of conversations with Fred, very little about my family. I can live with that. Sometimes the search for truth is more important than the truth itself.
Among the lessons and pain and love they gave me, my grandparents and aunts and uncle still sit in my heart like a giant question mark. And within that is a special place just for Mom. How my love for her endured through all of our trials is something I still ponder. I know I could attribute my feelings for her to the low self-esteem I suffered for most of my life, or the obligation I felt toward her for sticking with me when she could have ditched me. But it’s more than that. I believe that she truly didn’t know she was harming me. She didn’t have the intelligence or insight to question the way she had been raised, so she didn’t see that she was repeating many of her parents’ mistakes. Certainly she put her own desires first—I think about the time Barry asked me to stay and watch them—but I believe she also thought that with little else to offer, she was ensuring our survival by keeping her men happy.
I remember a conversation Mom and I once had, about two years before she died. She called to tell me that as part of her cancer treatment, she was working with a therapist to try to come to terms with her diagnosis and her life’s journey thus far. I was harried, making dinner with Avery attached to my breast, stressed about tasks for CeaSwim that had gone undone that day, only half listening. Then she said something that took me by surprise.
“You turned out so well, and I don’t think it was because of me.” When I didn’t say anything, she continued. “I mean it. You’re so, I don’t know, with it, and me, well . . . I’m mentally deficient. I know it. You know it. And I know it’s been frustrating having me for a mother. Really, I had no business raising a child. But I’m so glad I did.”
“So am I, Mom, so am I,” I responded, and there was nothing else I could think of to say. She had finally put into words herself what I’d long known to be true—but did that change anything? Not really. My moments of connection and revelation with her had always been and always would be interwoven with anger and resentment, a cocktail that made it impossible for me to completely accept or reject her.
“I have to go. Goodbye, Mom,” I said, and hung up the phone. I found myself smiling just a little as I did, reflecting that really, only two things about Mom were inarguable: that she was a godawful mother, and that she loved me.
I still miss her terribly.
Photos Section
Me riding my stick horse in the Kootenay Plains, 1973, shortly before Apache died.
This is one of the only photos I have from when we lived in the Gulf Islands with Barry. I was seven.
Mom and me in Calgary when I was twelve. One of my all-time favourite pictures. I mean, those pants! Notice how my mom (left) is just loving the camera and how nonplussed I look. Our expressions say a lot about where we were in our lives at the time.
Me (left) and Carleigh in tenth grade. We met in fifth grade and are still very close friends.
My high school graduation photo. Why, oh why did I have to graduate in the ’80s? By the time I saw a copy of this picture, I’d already escaped school to go live in Los Angeles.
In the Caribbean for a photo shoot, in 1990.
With Mom and Grandma Jeanne at my wedding to Kevin. This was the first and only time I saw Grandma Jeanne wearing makeup.
On holiday in Jamaica, age twenty-one.
Out with friends in Munich, 1994 (I’m on the far right). Heather (far left) is still one of my best friends in the world.
Shooting a catalogue in Guadaloupe, age twenty-five.
On location for a magazine shoot in Mauritius, age twenty-seven. Because don’t we all wear full jewellery to the beach, ladies?
Me and Mom in Hawaii in 1995 on the one and only vacation we ever took together. Despite our smiles, the trip was a trying experience for both of us as we attempted to mend our relationship.
Me on my wedding day to James, 2001.
Just after Avery’s birth, July 2005. I knew I’d love him, but I never imagined how much.
Mom came to visit with Grandma Jeanne after Avery was born. Mom was so excited to have a grandchild, and she was a wonderful grandmother during the short time she had with him before she died.
Avery and me in Halifax, 2007. He was my bright spot during that very difficult year.
The day this photo was taken was the last time I saw Papa Dick—I was glad he got to meet Avery. He died about a year later.
Remy and me not long after we met. We were inseparable from our very first date.
Avery and me on my wedding day in 2009. I was five months pregnant with Emerson. Avery helped Remy propose to me, and also walked me down the aisle.
Photo credit: S. Nieuwenhuijsen
Remy and me with Emerson shortly after he was born. That little guy has brought us so much joy!
A family photo taken in 2012, shortly after my daughter, Ayla, was born.
Since North of Normal was published, I’ve had some wonderful speaking opportunities. Here I am just before giving a TEDx talk in Vancouver.
I love the way these two photos show how far my father’s and my relationship has come. The picture on the left is of me and my dad meeting for the first time when I was two, and the one on the right is of him with my daughter, Ayla, at age two.
Author’s Note
This is the story of my life. Most of the memories depicted here are my own, but I have also drawn on the memories of my mother, grandparents, aunts, father and various family friends. My early life was a complicated jumble of events that was difficult to put into order, even for my family, but I have done my best. Timelines may not be exact, and dialogue and settings have obviously been recreated in the interest of storytelling. I have also omitted certain events in my life that were not significant to this memoir. Some names, distinguishing features and locations have been changed.
Acknowledgments
My net of gratitude cannot possibly capture all the people I have to thank or the appreciation I have for them. But here’s trying.
First and foremost, to all the readers of North of Normal who received my book so positively and provided me with much of the inspiration I needed to write Nearly Normal. It’s been such a pleasure communicating with those who have reached out to me. Please know that without you, there would be no second memoir.
I am forever indebted to my wonderful agent, Jackie Kaiser, for her steadfast belief in my story, her guidance and her friendship. Likewise to my amazing editor at HarperCollins, Iris Tupholme, who I suspect knows me even better than I know myself. Her eye for detail and insight into the complex workings of my family helped me produce a second memoir that far surpasses anything I could have written without her perspective. Thank you to my copy editor, Allyson Latta, who once again polished my words to perfection. To Jake Babad at Westwood Creative Artists, and to Laura Dosky, Kelly Hope, Doug Richmond an
d Natalie Meditsky at HarperCollins for their valuable input into my project. Also the wonderful sales, marketing and publicity team at HarperCollins, which does such a fantastic job of championing my work: Michael Guy-Haddock, Cory Beatty, Sandra Leef, Leo MacDonald, Julia Barrett and Sabrina Groomes. To Greg Tabor for creating my beautiful cover. To the many booksellers who believed in and promoted my book to their readers, in particular Deb McVittie and her staff at 32 Books, the staff at Indigo Marine Drive, Indigo Park Royal, Book Warehouse on Main, Black Bond Books in Ladner and Albany Books in Delta. To Kyle Mann, for believing in my dream.
To all my early-draft readers, including Gwen Floyd, Isabel Bleim, Janie Fitzpatrick, Michelle Clay, Susan Arntsen and Sylvia Shury—thank you so much for your time and invaluable feedback. To Bob Robinson, Bob Massad, Carleen Amos, Dawn Macdonald, Diane Peacock, Fred Norgard, Jason Goldsmith, Phil Chatterton, Scott Aver, Tom Godber and Vicky Robertson for opening up your stories of my family to me, and to Adrienne, who entered my life long enough to give me Chapter 17 but not long enough for me to get her last name.
The telling of a life story warrants gratitude to those who share it. I could never find the words to thank my family enough—Remy, the most awesome husband on earth; my beautiful children, Avery, Emerson and Ayla, who give my life more meaning and joy than I can even deal with sometimes; my father and his wife, who I only wish I could have more time with; my sister Megan, for her beautifully creative soul; and my late great relatives—my mother, Michelle, grandparents Dick and Jeanne, and grandparents Ed and Bee. Without you all, I’m certain my story would be a lot less interesting.
I am grateful to the many friends who have supported me both personally and in my writing process, in particular Amanda Tapping, Carleigh Kage, Cori Creed, Dianne Wood, Fiona Claire Geoghegan, Heather Greaves, Jenn Park, Karen Zen, Melissa Raynier, Nicole Oliver, Shannon Nering, Stephanie and John Lecomte, Susan Scarlett, Suzana Rummery, Traci Crivici, Tracy Comessotti and Wendy McDevitt—your friendship over the years has meant so much to me. Also Bernadette Burns, Bill Crow, Brook Davison, Chris Ainscough, Cintia Martins, Craig Cameron, Cynthia Merriman, Debbie Salzman, Heather Hood and the rest of the LB gang, Janet Allan, Jenny Drake, Joanne and Mark Falvai, John Elliott, Josh Moody, Lisa Rose Snow, Marlene Bailey, Martin and Giovanna Seiz, Martin Wood, Michelle Morgan, Nikki Lund, Romy Kozak, Sabrina and Phil Chatterton, Saleema Noon, Stephen and Tessa Geoghegan, Teresa Wood and Alfie Zeilburger, Tiffany Haziza and Tracey Rossignol—thank you for everything. To my book club babes Andrea Zenko, Ann Hickey, Brigit Forsyth, Joanna Clark, Joanne McKinney, Lonnie Macmillan, Melissa Raynier, Sharon Ferriss, Terri Green, Tiffany Fraser and Wendy O’Neill, you ladies make life a lot more fun.
I carry all of you with me; you are part of my story.
About the Author
CEA SUNRISE PERSON is the author of the bestselling book North of Normal: A Memoir of My Wilderness Childhood, My Counterculture Family, and How I Survived Both. She has spoken publicly about her unusual life at numerous events, including TEDx, and also teaches memoir writing. She lives in Vancouver with her husband and three children.
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Copyright
Nearly Normal
Copyright © 2017 by Cea Sunrise Person.
All rights reserved under all applicable International Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
First edition
EPub Edition: February 2017 EPub ISBN: 9781443449076
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