PHYLLIS CARTER'S JOURNAL Building Camelot One Essay At A Time. SATURDAY, AUGUST 8, 2015
DAWN MCSWEENEY DID MORE THAN ROB US - SHE TORE OUR FAMILY APART
I had been close to my father since I was a little child. Later, at age eleven, I went to work by his side at Metropolitan News, the family's International newspaper business. I adored my father. Everything I am, I learned from him.
When my mother attacked me and Dawn robbed me, the Montreal Police removed me from my home and warned me never to go back, even though the best of all my life's belongings had been stored there for decades.
I was not allowed to see my father for years. But when he was hospitalized and then went into residence at the Griffith McConnell, I spent time with him almost every day. I missed two or three times because of severe weather.
And Pop and I could talk about anything in the world. I would wheel his chair out onto the balcony by the big tree and we would sing the olde songs until twilight.
But something had changed. It wasn't only because he was frail and in the last months of his life. There was a distance that could not be named. There was a veil between us. We could talk about everything - except Dawn McSweeney. She poisoned our lives.
Both my parents died with Dawn's bitterness scarring their memories. They never acknowledged the truth about what Dawn McSweeney had done. They couldn't believe it. They wouldn't believe it. It was easier for them to believe her lies. It was easier not to talk about it. The whole family was ripped apart.
And so I fight on, day and night, until justice will be done.