"‘Was this all my fault?’: Lemn Sissay’s painful yet hope-filled memoir"
'''You don’t love us, do you?'
I said, 'Yeees, I do love you.'
'We want you to spend the next day thinking about love and what it is. Read the scriptures and give us your most honest and truthful answer tomorrow.'
That was it! It was a clear instruction from Mum and Dad. I studied the question for a day and a night, I prayed to God, and I read the Bible to see if a passage would answer the question. It was a question to which I already had the answer. Of course I loved them. Mum had always said that love was never in question. I started thinking all over again.
If they were asking me whether I loved them or not, and if they were the ones who taught me about love, then maybe I didn’t love them, otherwise they wouldn’t ask. This led me to the answer I thought they wanted me to get to. They wanted me to ask God for forgiveness and through him I will learn to love them. His love will shine through me and them. And in the Baptist faith a sinner must ask forgiveness for his sins. The theology was perfect, the timing unquestionable and the answer as honest as a sinner could get.
Tomorrow came and I said it with pride because I thought I had found the answer they wanted me to find: 'I mustn’t love you,' I said. I looked at their faces to see if I had said the right thing. 'But I will ask God for forgiveness… and learn to love you.' This was the perfect answer. 'Seek and ye shall find.' This is what they wanted to seek. And this is what I found.
She looked at me as if I had wounded her. 'You don’t love us, you don’t want to be with us?' All of this happened the day after they had made this call to the social worker.
31 December 1979: 'Message left after Christmas saying that the Greenwoods wanted Norman removed without further notice.' Social worker’s report
31 December 1979: 'Spoke to foster parents on telephone. Both almost insisted Norman had to leave today.' Social worker’s report
2 January 1980: 'Attitudes seemed hardened and therefore I arranged to take Norman to Woodfields.' Social worker’s report
3 January 1980: My mum wouldn’t hug me as I left, so I hugged her. Norman Mills, my new social worker, waited at the gate. He put me gently in the car. I looked back, but they were turning to go indoors, mindful of the neighbours. The car filled with quiet loss. Mum told me they will never visit me because it is my choice to leave them because I didn’t love them.
We passed the butcher’s and the chemist’s and Wigan Road and passed the Flower Park and the main park, the junior school and Byrchall High School, and then unfamiliar territory unfolded before me: the East Lancashire Road. One dual carriageway, with a single destination: Woodfields.
This was the beginning of the end of open arms and warm hugs. This was the beginning of empty Christmas time and hollow birthdays. This was the beginning of not being touched. I’m 12. And it is my fault. This is what I have chosen. The journey took about 45 minutes, or 45 seconds. Or 45 years.
I said to Norman Mills in the car: “I know this is my fault and I will ask God for forgiveness.” He kept his eyes on the road, but his hands gripped tighter on the wheel. He tapped the indicator and pulled quietly into a lay-by and turned the engine off. 'None of this is your fault. None of it.' I had no idea what he meant.
Night can’t drive out night
Only the light above
Fear can’t drive out fear
Only love"
~ Lemn Sissay
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