Free Girl Called Karen by Karen McConnell, Eileen Brand

not even another woman. As dreadful as that would have been, I knew it couldn’t approach the deadly blow I suffered by losing my husband to a male. It felt as though my very womanhood had been trampled in the dust.
    As outward physical evidence of my pain, I lost twenty-five pounds. When I dropped to 107 pounds, my surrogate mom, Doris, threatened me with hospitalization. My hair was drab and untrimmed, my complexion had gone sallow, and my energy level was at lowest ebb.
    Scott had left in August. Six weeks later, I went for a walk and noticed that the leaves had changed and the world was aglow with amazing color. I went home and wallowed in one last purge of self-pitying tears. Then I made an appointment for a haircut and splurged on some clothes that fit.
    The beauty of nature had touched me and called me back to join the living world. My sense of my human worth returned, and I reviewed my short-term relationship with Scotty from a different perspective. That was useful. I realized that I had learned a lot about myself. I knew that never again would I be so captivated that I lost my identity or sublimated my needs and ideals.
    My third husband, Russ McConnell, was sixteen years my senior, and a lot of people have accused me of looking for a father. I can only tell you that I finally found a man who dearly loved and valued meand whom I respected and loved. He had a great sense of humor, danced superbly, and was always eager to frolic. He liked joking and really loved women. He was also serious and hard working, and life with him was always good and mostly fun. We were together for more than twenty years before cancer robbed me of my best friend.
    It had taken two failed marriages, untold strain on my children, and disastrous consequences to my bank account before I got it right with a good, rewarding relationship with a man.

CHAPTER NINE
The Six of Us
    W hen sister Grace was married in New York in 1975, all my brothers and sisters went to the wedding, and we have gotten together periodically ever since.
    My brother Larry grew into a fine man of honor. He is an engineer and worked for the same company for years. Now that he is approaching retirement age, he is exploring other opportunities. He married a beautiful woman, and they have two sons.
    Sandra came next. My father and Sally had four lovely daughters, and Sandy is the most striking of us all. In some ways, she looks less like our mother and more like Aunt Mary Louise, who mothered her after my father sent us to New York.
    Sandy learned to read before she went to school. (I know because I taught her.) Aunt Mary Louise diedwhen Sandy was in college, so she has suffered the loss of two mothers. As an adult she worked in journalism, has published several successful books, and mothered a talented and athletic son, who is now grown. Her husband, Mark, has been an environmental and business reporter and is the author of two acclaimed books.
    Patricia May was Sally’s fourth child. She was a very sweet, gentle girl who loved animals. She would crawl under the dining-room table with our little dog as company during her naps. She was always an obedient, compliant little girl whom adults liked. She grew into a successful adult.
    Grace is a beautiful shining star. My children and grandchildren adore her. She has become a pillar of her community as a volunteer. The children who visit the library where she is the Story Lady clamor to be around her.
    She has developed extraordinary skills in working with children with special needs, including autistic children. She has accomplished all this despite having to fight the demon depression – a physiological disorder that has taken down some of our greatest writers. She has a supportive, loving husband, a handsome, intelligent son who is following his dream as a teacher.
    David was the baby. Our mother died when he was three. He grew up to be a sensitive, attractive young man. In his teens and twenties, he made poor decisions, but he