Chapter 8.6 After the Burial

We go back to the hotel after running around, trying to find answers. We decided that, that was enough for the day. For me it definitely was. I needed to do something that would take my mind off things, and thankfully there was a friend in town that I was able to meet up with. We met in Marquette for the first time, and it happened because I said a joke about the House of Yahweh. She laughed like she knew what I was talking about, and she did. I made a joke to her this time saying that “See, the House of Yahweh brought two heathens together again. What do you know?” We both laughed over a few drinks that night. I think it’s fair to say that this was a well-deserved escape.

The next day we had decided that we were going to head back. I spoke with my mother on the phone again, and told her how the funeral went. She expressed a lot of sadness in her voice. I told her that I would let her know when we were getting to Chicago when we knew. I was eager to get out of Abilene myself, but I think my sister and aunt just wanted a good start on the trip. We made sure my father’s belongings were all locked up, and went to meet up with a friend from my childhood before we left. He invited me to see another mutual friend that I hadn’t seen for 11 years, and I agreed. During that time, another ex-member who I had been in touch with offered to drive an hour to see me. Even though it would just be for an hour. He showed up on the property and we chatted for a little before we head to a local brewery. It was nice to see everyone, but like everyone seemed to be saying “It’s too bad it’s under these circumstances.” But in reality, I can’t imagine why anyone would simply visit Abilene Texas. I leaned up against a tree during our conversation, looked down, and a green grasshopper jumped on my leg. “I guess the hard parts over.” I said to myself in my head.

We all headed towards the pub to have one last chat. The conversation lead to concerns about the danger that the House of Yahweh poses to its followers. I became fully convinced at this time that the house of Yahweh has become an unstable place.

We left, and we were on our way to Wichita Falls. We spent a night there, a night in Missouri, and we continued to make our way north to Chicago. We arrived a couple hours south of Chicago, and a friend of mine was expecting my call. I called him to let him know what was going on. “Why not just come all the way to Chicago?” he asked, and the conversation went on. “Well are you too tired? If you want me to come, I’ll come.” He said. And shortly after, he drove two hours to come and visit me. Almost exactly two hours after our phone conversation, he was there. I hadn’t seen him since I lived in Ecuador.

Earlier that day I had texted my mother and told her that I would be in Chicago the next day. And the next day I received a bundle of texts from her, and my only conclusion is that she was having a bipolar episode. There was a long text that expressed selfishness on my part, how she forgives me for having a family in New York, and cruel words that parents don’t say to their children. I showed the text to my aunt and within seconds she started crying “I’m sorry, Brandon. You sure don’t have it easy.”

I tried to explain to my mother that I didn’t know the exact time I was going to be in Chicago, and she insisted it was my fault that I didn’t see her. I was completely baffled by this situation, because she didn’t want to come see me in Chicago when I arrived, and now it happened twice. The feeling of bafflement didn’t stop either, because the last text she sent me was a message stating that she was disowning her son. I said to her “I’m not sure why a parent would ever let go over their children.” And there have been no words between us since. I hesitate to write this, but this book is a memoir of a 29 year old, and this is something significant that happened, as well as it parallels other moments in my past. I love my mother. She taught me charisma, how to dance, told me about women, and in round about ways she showed me how to teach myself independence. I love my mother, but I do not know how to not love her from a distance.

Finding the strength to let this form of rain roll off wasn’t too difficult. Because all I had to do was remind myself what the ropes felt like in my hand. The rope that my father hung himself with, and the ropes that I lifted to put in him the ground. Shortly I was on a plane back to Europe. I would eventually get back to writing this book, and further my journey. It’s what my father would’ve wanted.



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