For months I puzzled over this, phantom child. I then applied the truth I discovere,d that my mother, Rosemary Rosamond duplicated much of their mother’s life. Mary was a Leo and a very powerful woman. Her four beautiful daughters held her in awe, and dare not speak ill of her – even after she died. What was the hold she had over her children?
I long wondered why Rosemary let Victor work his two sons like slaves. After the divorce, Rosemary worked her sons the same way. We were expendable. We had to run the house, do chores, tend to Rosemary’s emotional crisis. Out father was vilified – in our face! We were made to feel unwanted! Our mother expressed deep resentment that she was stuck with us by that bastard! Mark was told he had to support his mother in her old age, because she was forced to go to work – before Vic was out of the house!
Then, two weeks ago, the truth arrived. In studying the photos of Eutrophia, I saw that she was distressed, but hid her anguish within. In these photos someone has hung a sheet up as a backdrop, and Eutrophia is posing for a portrait. I considered the postcards that were made of Mary, and the campers on Anacapa Island. I studied the farm, and realized this was taken during the Depression. These people……………..are very hungry! They are very desperate. Perhaps Eutrophia’s beauty will save the day. If one could only capture it!
No such luck! Not like my sister, Christine Rosamond, who took up art because she had a gthree year old child to support, and was on Welfare! When Rosamond was famous and rich, she overstocked her house with food, because we were always hungry. Christine was convinced Rosemary kept us hungry on purpose, in order to control us. She would tell us she considered putting us up for adoption, she reminding us constantly how she sacrificed her life for us!
Here is what I believe happened. Eutrophia, her husband, and their little girl, got into their car, and drove away, leaving the two boys to fend for themselves. They walked to Mary’s house, and knocked on the door. They were abandoned! Mary had no choice. Her daughters knew what had happened to their cousins. She took them in, as if she was a church, the church of Mary Magdalene.
Two days ago I talked to Marilyn on the phone for two hours about how we met, how everyone was against our forming a bond. We concluded that in our past life we were a Father, and a Nun, who fell deeply in love with one another. Marilyn looks like Mary, and we talked when were were fifteen and sixteen about her being my Mary Magdalene. At sixteen she gave me ‘The Last Temptation of Jesus Christ’ to read.
After my death experience, I was very poor, and lost. Then, the most beautiful woman I had ever beheld walks out of a dranked doorway, and asks if she could walk with me. She has been by my side, ever since. She is my beautiful Muse, who I did two portraits of in hope I could own the money to marry her, my Rena Christina.
I am working on a video of my story ‘The birth of Venus’. It is more then a masterpiece. It is the Brith of the Rose of the World. My grandmother was an object of worship.