**TRIGGER WARNING: Domestic Violence**
1986
John became more difficult to live with due to his toxic narcissistic personality and drug use, and I wanted out. I remember getting divorce papers and holding onto them. John said that he would never give me a divorce. Even though we were married, I’d stopped sleeping with him. By that time, he repulsed me. Finally, I managed to talk him into moving out, which he did. He moved in with our former neighbor who had moved into a three bedroom house. They were looking for a third roommate. By this time, John was unemployed but somehow convinced his roommates to accept a BBQ grill that I’d purchased as payment. He also took the phone I bought for the apartment. Before leaving, he said that I’d never be able to keep him out of the apartment. My supervisor thought I should move. Little did I know, she was right.
About a week after he moved out, he returned to the apartment on Saturday morning, just after 5:00 a.m., and started hollering at the top of his lungs. He then grabbed my face with his left hand and yelled, “I’m going to shatter your face so even your own family won’t recognize you!” He drew back his right fist and yelled, “I’m going to do it right now!” Just then, there was banging on the door. A neighbor woman heard all of the yelling and came to complain about it. John let go of me and answered the door. He was very cordial with her and apologetic. While he stood there with the door open talking to her, I slid past him, and took off running down the stairs but there was no place to go. He quickly caught up with me and grabbed me.
By that time, neighbors were gathering and standing around, and I started to scream, "Call the police! Call the police!” No one did. To shut me up, John began choking me until I started to lose consciousness. Just then, he let go of me and took off running. I could barely speak and couldn’t scream at the neighbors anymore. I tried yelling at one of my neighbors to call the police, but she just stood there staring at me. I brushed past her and entered her apartment and asked where the phone was. She pointed to it, and I called 911. My throat hurt from being choked and my voice was raspy but I still communicated with them that, “My husband was choking me!”
Two police officers arrived. One took a report, and the other put out an All Points Bulletin (APB), but John managed to slip away. The officer who took the report had me sit in the back seat of his patrol car, while we drove around looking for him. No such luck. The officer returned me to my apartment. I got dressed and went to a medical clinic at the mall. When I told them what happened, they told me to go to the Emergency Department in Fremont. I had a VW Rabbit by that time, and was able to drive myself to the hospital.
At the ED, I learned that because my car was a bright aqua blue color and unique, I wouldn’t be allowed to stay at a women’s shelter because my vehicle would stand out. I called someone from church who held my hand and comforted me. I still had trouble talking and swallowing, but other than those injuries, I was okay to leave the ED. I returned home and took a shower. I don’t remember what I did right after that, other than plan to file for a temporary restraining order and a divorce on Monday, which I did. John was served with the restraining order but never showed up for court. And so, the restraining order was in full effect for one year. He showed up at my church, and I handed him the divorce papers, which he signed. He then left because of the restraining order.
Oh, right--I remember what I did after I got home from the ED. I went to my bank, withdrew the money that I had deposited the day before, closed the account and opened up a new one. The teller told me later that John showed up trying to withdraw money from my account. He had a debit card, but of course, it didn’t work by then. I decided to give up my apartment and relocate to a nearby house that had a spare bedroom. By this time, I was working in Hayward for a hospitality support company. I received a phone call at work from John’s roommate, Jim, trying to convince me to take John back. Sometimes, people just make mistakes!” he said. I hung up on him.
John began stalking me. He found out where I lived and began driving by at 2:00 o’clock in the morning, repeatedly yelling, “I love you!” from his car window. I called the police. He left a deranged letter on my windshield. I called the police. He left another note. I called the police. John began driving by during the day. I called the police. Because he had violated the restraining order so many times, a warrant was issued for his arrest. He then fled the area and I never saw him again.
From then on, I only referred to him as “Dana’s dad." I somehow found out that he ended up living with a woman he met in Los Angeles, named Pricilla. She got pregnant, and they both moved back to Minnesota. At some point they got married. Eventually, they divorced, and Pricilla and their son Paul, moved to Las Vegas.
Meanwhile, I was working on repairing my relationship with Kelly. She really had no boundaries where John was concerned, and of course, stayed in contact with him for Dana's sake. When I told Kelly that Dana’s dad had choked me, she laughed. This relationship with my sister was not going to be an easy one.
I spent time with Dana, and would pick her up for day trips, occasionally having her spend the night. She was my “Precious Little Dana”. That’s what I called her until she was 13 years old and said, “You don’t have to say ‘little’ anymore.” So she became my “Precious Dana.” I’d write her letters and address her as Dearest Dana. I had a lot to make up for and I adored Dana. She could always make me laugh no matter what we were doing.
Kelly sent Dana to live with her dad, in Minnesota when Dana was 14 years old. She said it was because Dana was out of control. I never found out what Dana did. Prior to her leaving, I would take time off work and drive to San Jose to pick her up from school. Yes--she was that precious to me.
Dana became pregnant when she was 18 years-old while living in Duluth, prompting Kelly to relocate to Minnesota to be with her daughter. Marie was born on November 6, 1995, and three months later, in 1996, I flew back to Duluth to meet this little bundle of joy. I knew she had to be precious if she was Dana’s daughter. Dana and Errol had gotten married, and I paid for their new phone to be hooked up. Kelly did a fantastic job decorating the nursery. I was always so proud of Dana, just for being Dana.
In 1997, Dana and Errol had another daughter on December 19, Kristine, another precious being in the world! Kelly relished being a grandma and they were all very close. Kelly then moved out of Duluth to St. Cloud. Dana and Errol had divorced by then, and Dana lived in public housing with the girls. I’d fly to Minnesota once or twice a year for a visit. I especially enjoyed going there and staying at a hotel with an indoor pool. Kelly would pick me up from the airport, and we’d head to my hotel in Duluth. It was a lot of fun. I loved going to Duluth during the winter time when there’d be a ton of snow on the ground.
