Mending the Broken Roads

R.I.P.

Max Ross, the best big brother ever!

Sami Ross, my big sissy!

Audrina "Audie" Ross, my basically twin sister!

July 4 (Independence Day), 2005

July 3, 2012

Dear Diary,

My so-called shrink said that it would be good for me to keep a diary of my thoughts, so here goes nothing.

Today, I'm in the hospital…what else is new, huh? I've been thinking about the past, trying to look forward to the future, but nothing seems to be working. I'm not saying that I don't have a good life, but it's hard with a big family split in two divisions and nobody to be the right mediator for it. God knows I can't do it alone. After all, I'm only fourteen and I sure as hell have a lot of my own problems to deal with, so bad that it seems that the family has to deal with it all, too.

To start off my story, while trying to make something good come out of this diary like a best-seller biography (haha!), I shall tell you about the past and how it was all good before hand, before I move on to how I am now, and how much has changed in just a few short years…in a very short lifetime.

When I was little, I thought that my family had the perfect marriage. My mother dearly loved my father, and he in turn dearly loved her back. But underneath, there were cracks in our family that would soon break, tearing us all apart with no way of being put back together, again.

I'm the fourth child born into my family, now the oldest. Above, I put a memorial. Well, on that day of supposed joyous occasion, my older brother and two older sisters were too excited to get out and ride their bikes that they forgot their helmets. CRASH! A drunk driver hit them all. Audie was the first to die, right there in the road with all of us younger kids watching. Next was Max, who died on the way to the hospital. Sami died a few hours later, during a life-saving surgery. My father, a pediatric doctor and my mother, a registered nurse as well as nurse manager, had no idea of what to do. They worked in traumas almost every day, but my mother just stood there, stunned, shocked, frozen in place while she shielded me, only 7, Derek, the tender age of four-and-a-half, and Perri and Piper, the twins, who weren't even two years of age, yet. However, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shield me just enough, and I watched in horror and extreme pain, myself, as my sister died, and my other sister and brother were just on their ways. It has haunted me every day of my life since then, even now, almost seven years later, tomorrow.

Now, us remaining Ross children, now Johnstone, have a whole new and different life, now. My mother and father were divorced not even a year after the 'accident' due to my mother's lack of trust in my father with his drinking, that ultimately leaded to him cheating on her, as well as emotional and physical abuse on who was left in our broken family.

I haven't seen nor spoken to him since the 2nd Christmas after my siblings died, over five years ago.

Today, July 3 of 2012, I am now the oldest of the Ross children. I'm 14, Derek is almost 12, and the twins, little Perri and Piper who have no recollection of their oldest siblings, are now 8 ½.

In 2008, almost three years after my parents got divorced on March 13, my mother remarried to a widower whose wife died while giving birth to their last child together. Sadly, it was the day after he was born, in 2004, not long before I lost my bubby and two sissies. AND, to top it all off, he had five kids of his own. Of course we moved into a bigger house, away from all our 'ghosts from the past', and started our new life together in a much bigger house. However, the closest in age of the same sex had to share a bedroom, and at first it was hard…especially for me, because now I had to share my bedroom with two new sisters, both older than me, and it made me sick! You see, David Johnstone's kids were Gabbria Abigail or "Abbey" Johnstone, who was almost fourteen, then. Next was Rindi, who had just turned 11...both were born close to or around the same time as Sam and Audie had been. At least there wasn't an older brother, or I would've gone ballistic! The younger ones weren't so bad to deal with. Nick was 9, Josie was 7, and Adam was almost 4. I dealt as best as I could, and finally adjusted right before the other 'accident' or 'incident' as I like to refer to it as.

Today, as I had said before, I'm 14, Derek's 11 ½, Perri and Piper are 8 ½, Abbey is 18, now, and living in the attic. Rindi is 15, and still sharing a bedroom with me, much to Perri and Piper's dismay, who share their own bedrooms. Nick is 13, and sharing with Derek, Josie is 10 ½, and Adam just turned 8. Un-luckily to me, Josie and Adam get to share their own bedrooms, now…but it's not so bad since Abbey moved upstairs. For a while, we blurred the 'same-sex' lines, since Josie and Adam were real sister and brother, but now, since their 'older', so-to-speak, they have their own rooms. Life does seem to suck, sometimes…especially now.

You see, now I have to get back to the reason as to why I'm in the hospital. Well, to explain my family a little further, my mother's Catholic, and became more-so after Max, Sam and Audie died. David is Catholic, as well, so we all attended Sacred Heart Catholic School, which is a pretty good sized school. It's medium, not too big, not too small…a place where a quiet and secretive, mysterious girl like me can blend in and not be found out…or so I thought, because it was just at that place, not even two months ago, that I found out more bad news, just when I thought my life was getting better.

I found out that I had leukemia.

I passed out during the girls' gym class, and stopped breathing. I was bruised up and had a knot and cut on my head that wouldn't stop gushing out blood. An ambulance was called and I was rushed to my mother's hospital at County General where my surrogate aunts and uncles worked on me. They were also the ones who helped to confirm my diagnosis…acute lymphocytic leukemia. Just my luck! As soon as life was good, and money was okay, I go and ruin my gym uniform because a disease that had apparently been growing inside my body for quite a while.

Well, at least I get to technically 'cut' class and I don't have to wear my uniform or go to mass for a while, though I still pray the rosary sometimes twice a day and have visitations from my priest and other people from my parish…though sometimes it bugs me, because no one understands what I'm going through, no matter how much they say that they do…not even the doctors. And even while taking these harsh drugs that make me not want to even look at food, let alone eat it, or make me so sick that I'm puking my guts out or ending up in the ICU…above it all, I still have to do my homework, including my Christian Faith classes, even though I'm already confirmed (It's a continuing 'education' program) and had my first holy communion when I was seven.

While I'm not doing that, I do have a roommate who at least understands what I'm going through…she has ALL, as well. Her name is Kimmalee and she's only two months younger than I am. We share all our thoughts, all our dreams…and all our worries about death. She was diagnosed only two weeks before I was, so she had the worse of it before I did. Oddly enough, though, we both started losing our hair on the same night just a week ago. Since then, I haven't wanted my family to visit…not with me looking ugly. I actually don't know how I look, refusing to look into the mirror and all, but I know it can't be good, especially with how awful I'm feeling (it's worse than the flu, which I've had dozens of times before, and I know I looked like hell, then).

I also love writing, as you can tell, haha! I love to draw, and act…I did some shows at Sacred Heart before I got sick, so when I'm feeling okay, and Kimmalee as well, we try to put on skits for the younger kids…and even some of the nurses, LOL. We rarely watch TV…it got so boring after a couple of weeks, that we only turn it on when we want to fall asleep.

However, even though my father acted like such a bastard after my siblings died, I still worry about him today. Even in my condition. And I wonder if he thinks about us, and still loves us, even after all this time.

But, with how our families are, now, it's probably best that I don't find that out.

And with how our families our, now…it's probably best that we never see him, again.

After all, before this, before David and even somewhat afterwards, I was the one to take care of my younger sibs, and I resent my father for not allowing me to have a 'normal' childhood, whatever that means, that word 'normal'.

Yep, it's probably best that he just stayed away. After all, he hasn't been around in five years, and now that I'm sick, I don't want his sympathy. After all, where was he all those times that I needed him, when mom was depressed and I had the younger kids? He was never there for me, then, and I sure as hell don't want him here, now.

I'm a stubborn, one, even with and especially with my illness, and I DEFINITELY don't want him to give up his 'new' life now because of it. After all, if he loved me, he wouldn't stayed…

….wouldn't have he?

Ella Katheryn "Ellie" Ross

July 3, 2012

9:38 a.m.