December 30… The day I was born. Already I was unwanted, a fatherless child to a young, unwed mother, an immature woman who wasn’t even sure who the father of her baby could be, maybe the engaged Italian policeman she was having an affair with, or the Lebanese taxi driver she was also lusting after, or maybe someone else, who really knew.
By the time I was a few weeks old she had moved on to the man she would then love and live with until the day he died. He was a slob of a person with no desire for another man’s child, and he hated me with a passion. Of course, I don’t remember this, obviously I was too young to be forming visible memories at that stage of life, but the report that I was thrown across the room at about 3 months of age kind of gives it away, and if that didn’t, then being abandoned at my grandparents’ home just a few short weeks later would paint the picture clearly.
Those first few months of my life set the stage for the rest of my formative years. Unwanted, abused, and cast aside. While my grandparents took me in and raised me as their own even allowing me to call them Mum and Dad, I was never truly wanted, an opportunity to remind me that I was the reason they remained poor was rarely missed, and threats of being sent away hung over my head like an executioners axe for my entire childhood.