Cost Of Truth , livre ebook

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140 pages

English

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Donna had all she wanted. She was a much loved daughter, sister, friend and devout catholic who chose to serve as a nun. Three years in the convent led Donna to a career in nursing. . A marriage and five children followed; a perfect family life for thirteen years. But, it ended with the truth she was gay. In Donna's words, "I could have continued to live a comfortable life and never faced the truth. But the truth mattered to me. I could not remain silent. I had to deal with what it meant; pain and heartbreak." Today Donna proudly welcomes her sexuality, has found a friend in the man she married and peace with her faith. With a loving partner and her children by her side she celebrates life and is optimistically positive as she takes on another challenge; a battle with metastatic bone cancer.

Sujets

Catholicisme

Informations

Publié par	Book Venture Publishing LLC
Date de parution	09 août 2018
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781643480534
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0000€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Copyright © 2018 by Julie K. Parrott.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior writtefn permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

BookVenture Publishing LLC
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Ordering Information:
Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address above.

Printed in the United States of America.

Library of Congress Control Number
2018946065
ISBN-13:
Softcover
978-1-64348-051-0
Pdf
978-1-64348-052-7
ePub
978-1-64348-053-4
Kindle
978-1-64348-054-1

Rev. date: 05/23/2018
Contents
Foreword
Preface
Chapter One: September 2012
Chapter Two: 1949-1961
Chapter Three: Leaving Home
Chapter Four: Boarding School
Chapter Five: The Decision
Chapter Six: Preparing
Chapter Seven: A Postulant
Chapter Eight: A Novice
Chapter Nine: Nursing
Chapter Ten: My Dad
Chapter Eleven: Michael
Chapter Twelve: An Engagement
Chapter Thirteen: The Wedding
Chapter Fourteen: Family Life
Chapter Fifteen: Leaving Queensland
Chapter Sixteen: Sydney
Chapter Seventeen: Confusion
Chapter Eighteen: Knowing the Truth
Chapter Nineteen: Being Honest
Chapter Twenty: The Consequence
Chapter Twenty-One: Telling Mum
Chapter Twenty-Two: Finding Work
Chapter Twenty-Three: Another Setback
Chapter Twenty-Four: Discovery
Chapter Twenty-Five: It Isn’t Working
Chapter Twenty-Six: It’s Over
Chapter Twenty-Seven: My Own Person
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Cairns
Chapter Twenty-Nine: An Understanding
Chapter Thirty: Honest Thoughts
Chapter Thirty-One: The Sunshine Coast
Chapter Thirty-Two: Finding My Feet
Chapter Thirty-Three: An Interesting Introduction
Chapter Thirty-Four: A Friend
Chapter Thirty-Five: Di
Chapter Thirty-Six: Happiness
Epilogue
One Last Word

This book is dedicated to my mother, whose life values became the foundation for the person I am today, and to my beautiful children, Rachel (Ricci), Gemma (Jewsie), Paul (Porpie), Elizabeth (Boo Boo),
Michael (Cheek), and my gorgeous grandchildren. I have shared my story so you know the truth. My love for each and every one of you is so strong, it is indescribable and has no boundaries.

‘I no longer judge or criticize myself. I am free to love who I am.’

(Unknown)

Foreword
‘Everyone is unique and dif ferent. If we a re like other people, then we a re not expr essing our own specialness.’

(Unknown)

My name is Donna Gordon; I grew up with loving parents in a happy , caring, and religious home. I am not well known, nor have I achieved anything earth-shattering, but I strongly believe everyone is unique and there is something special about each and every one of us.
My special story is about truth and honesty , which came at an enormous cost to my family and myself—a cost I will live with until the day I die. Some people will have difficulty relating to the decisions I made in life; others will understand. For me, there was no other way; I had to be truthful. To preserve the anonymity of those outside my family who have been a special part of my journey, I have changed names and specific information; only you will know who you are and, I hope with all my heart you are now quietly at peace with that part of your life you shared with me.
I may not have reflected some situations with total accuracy; age is a funny thing; it sometimes doesn’t allow one to remember every detail as well as it should. But these are my recollections, so to the best of my memory, this is how it is. I apologise in advance if I have not reflected a situation with the complete accuracy it deserved.

Preface
‘Love is the only thing we carry with us when we go, and it makes the end so easy. ’

—Louise May Alcott

14 October 2004

My mother had been slipping in and out of consciousness for nearly a week, and we had precious time left, but when I returned to her bedside after taking my eldest son, Paul, to the airport, I found her lucid for the first time in days.
The ride to the airport had been an awakening. In the short drive, Paul reminded me of our family values, the ones I shared with my children and the ones we live by today. The very same values inherited from my wonderful parents, especially my mother Doris, who now had such little time remaining. He was talking about the value of ‘truth’. Paul knew I was emotionally spent, having nursed my mother for the past two weeks, but with her passing now imminent, he quietly said ‘Mumma, it is time to tell Nana the truth before she dies—you need to do that for her and for yourself.’
For many years, I had been living a lie to my mother , sometimes hiding from the truth or sometimes justifying she needed protection from the truth. And sometimes, I just never found the right time or way to tell her. The truth being, I was gay , and being gay was not something a woman with a strong Catholic faith and an unwavering belief in the sanctity of heterosexual marriage could possibly understand and accept, especially from her only daughter. Her daughter, who at one time had given herself to the Catholic Church, who was still strong in her faith, who had married a man so good to her, and who had given birth to her five beautiful grandchildren.
My mother undoubtedly had her suspicions over the years, especially knowing I had at one time lived with a woman; however, she believed this to be a consequence of a short-term fragile state of mind or depression following the birth of my last baby, and she lived with hope and prayer I no longer held such desires. My mother remained as the only person in our family who hadn’t been told the truth. I had not only avoided telling her the truth, but we had, many years ago, even stopped talking about my life.
As I entered her hospital room after returning from the airport, I looked at my mother sitting on the side of the bed. Then, as she raised her head, her eyes held mine—lucid, loving, kind eyes, able to focus for the first time in days. I walked towards her and held her hands—hands, once so strong and gentle, now so cold, ravaged by years of unforgiving arthritis. And, with words straight from my heart, I gently said, “Mum, there is something I have to tell you, something I have wanted so badly to tell you for such a long time, something you need to know . . . I am gay . The lady, who some six years ago, I said was my housemate, living in my unit to help to pay the mortgage, and who may answer the phone should you call, is actually my life partner Di, and I love her very much as do my children.” With Paul’ s words in my heart, I had finally found the courage to tell my mother the truth. But I still wanted the impact softened by her knowing my children, the grandchildren she adored, had accepted my relationship with Di.
It was over just like that; I had said something I should have said years ago, something I had always wanted to tell my mother, and something my mother needed to know .
Mum slowly digested what I had said; then as she gently squeezed my hands and held my eyes with hers, she quietly spoke her last words to me, ‘I don’t understand it!’ With love for my mother tumbling out, I looked into those weary eyes and replied, ‘I don’t understand it either, but I am what I am, and it is what it is, and all you need to know is I am happy and so are my children.’ I gently laid her head back on the pillow. She had heard what I had to say, she finally knew the truth, and she knew what it meant for me. And as I looked at my beautiful mother, her body once so lithe and strong, now so spent, she gently closed her eyes and appeared to be quietly at peace.
The following day , I left Townsville for the Sunshine Coast to arrange leave to be with my mother during the last part of her journey . However , this was never to be. Sadly , two days later, on 16 October 2004, my mother peacefully passed away , with dignity and with truth in her heart, the same way she had lived her exemplary life.
I have for so long pondered the effect of not being truthful to my mother and the impact this also had on my children. Mum had often questioned my children, discussing her concerns, reassuring them, or perhaps herself, saying, ‘ Y our Mum is okay and God and his Blessed Mother are looking after her .’ In my most private moments, I wondered how my children felt as they quietly agreed with whatever their grandmother said, yet knowing full well I was in love with a woman and living a very full and happy life. I felt I had, in a