I was our Gypsy Leader 1 - My reincarnated Soul Mate - 2. Chapter 2. Remembering my own burnt little brother.

Surprisingly, all five children remained silent, while they stared at me as if waiting for more... Their unexpected silence made me doubt and feel as if I could have made a silly mistake. Why didn't my new 'friends' look happier, now that I had offered them such a generous promise? Automatically, my analytical mind started to doubt. Perhaps, they hadn't expected me, being only an old bearded 'ancient grandpa' they had never seen here before, to offer them such a generous vow? Or, had I really made a silly mistake by using a children's promise? Why hadn't I kept my mouth shut and listened to them first, instead of trying to make a good impression on them?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the youngest girl started to giggle whilst looking at me with almost adoration in her eyes. At the same time, all the others seemed to feel relieved, because they started to smile. They even shuffled closer, as if they had decided to trust me from now on! Obviously, I had used exactly the right words, although my doubtful mind still told me I could have done better.

Again, my twelve-year-old 'former friend' stared deeply into my eyes. This time, his wise brown orbs not only showed a lot more trust, but his outstretching aura also told me he really wanted to talk to me. My heart was now sure he had recognized me too and that he wanted me to be his new 'Big Friend'. Only, how should I cope with that? As a single man and living all alone, paying too much attention to such a young child could easily be looked upon as being 'improper behavior' in our so over-protective and mistrusting Big Brother society. How would this boy's parents react, if they found out that their child had befriended such an 'ancient grandpa'? Wouldn't they think the worst of it and probably forbid their kids to talk to me ever again?

Still thinking and pondering, I suddenly heard myself ask:

"I don't have any cool drinks, but would you care for hot tea?"

Smiling even broader, all five kids accepted my offer. Crowding together, they slumped down on the wooden porch floor, while I rose from my chair and entered my house. Very much to my surprise, the oldest boy just followed me inside as if this were quite normal to him! Through my hallway, he went straight to my kitchen, as if he knew the way and was already used to being around. After looking around with curious eyes, he went to my sink, washed his tear-stained face, and took the only kitchen towel I had been able to find so far.

After drying his face and hands, he started to rummage in my still only halfway filled cupboards without asking, and helpfully filled a tray with enough cups, milk, sugar and a spoon. Clearly, my young friend felt already totally at home in Jack's former kitchen, as if he had been here many times before! Feeling surprised, but also pleased with his helpful company, I poured some water into a kettle and put it onto my newly bought electric cook top. Together, we started to wait for the water to heat up... After a few seconds of waiting, my young 'former friend' suddenly smiled broadly at me, turned around, stepped backwards, and then trustfully leaned into my chest.

For a second, I hesitated. Ultimately, I had met this boy for the first time only a few minutes ago, and I didn't even know his name! Then, I decided to listen to my heart and just folded my arms around his surprisingly firm frame. Obviously, my affectionate young friend was not only helpful, but also craving for lots of tender loving care. Didn't this boy have his own Dad to love and cuddle him, and was he therefore trying to adopt me as a 'replacement father', or perhaps as another 'Big Friend'? Well, did I really mind?

While my young friend leaned even closer against my chest, I also wondered why he and I were already feeling so totally at ease in each other's company. This was very strange, unless we really knew each other from our past lives and had been very close friends before! Still, my analytical mind refused to believe in those strange things my old Indian Shaman once told me about. Everybody knows that dead is dead, and death is the definitive end of everything! There had to be another and perhaps more logical explanation...

When the water started to boil, my new friend left my arms. Again he helped me, by fetching the tea from one of my only halfway filled cupboards. Smilingly, I realized that the boy had found my tea almost effortlessly, while I couldn't even remember putting it there. Clearly, I was really becoming a forgetful 'ancient grandpa'!

Together, we returned to the porch and the patiently waiting others, while I carried the kettle of tea and my young friend proudly carried the filled tray. Everybody took a cup of tea and added some milk and sugar. Sitting together, we first sipped our drinks, and then put the emptied cups back onto the tray. Now and then, we smiled at each other, clearly already feeling more at ease in each other's company.

While sipping my tea, I restarted to think. Why did my inside feel so strangely happy, as if I had reached an important goal? Stealthily, I looked at my twelve-year-old 'former friend' who sat next to me.

Why was my heart so sure that this young boy and I once had been grownup friends who loved each other deeply, although my analytical mind was sure I had never seen him before in my present life? This was extremely strange, unless we really remembered each other from our 'past incarnations' and had been very close friends before...

The boy seemed to feel the same happiness; because, every time I looked at him, he looked back at me and smiled broadly. My gut feeling told me his inside was sensing the same renewing friendship and that he really wanted ME to be his next 'Big Friend'. Could my new friend remember the same past life where we had been grownup trappers in some forest? And, had 'Harry' really been my own little son, until a hungry bear killed all three of us and we went to 'heaven'? If so, I absolutely wanted to meet my former little son! Would he and I immediately recognize each other? However, wanting to know my new young neighbors' names first, I suggested:

"Shall we now introduce ourselves first? To start with this 'ancient grandpa', my own first name is Harry."

Chuckling, whilst at the same time looking a little bit naughty, my twelve-year-old 'former friend' responded:

"Firstly, I have to disagree with Thomas, because you are NOT an 'ancient grandpa'! At least, not yet... Shall I now introduce all of us to you? My name is John, and I am thirteen years old. That boy over there is my younger brother Mark, and he is eleven. This is my sister Marrie, and she is ten. That yellow rascal over there is my best friend Thomas, he is twelve; and the girl next to him is his younger sister Chrissy and she is nine. Our youngest friend Harry is only eight years old, and I hope you will meet him soon. He is like my adopted little Gypsy brother, and all of us are always trying to protect him from any pestering or name-calling kids in our neighborhood."

My thirteen-year-old 'former friend' was firmly built, with a warm and open face, deep brown eyes, and dark brown hair with little curls at the edges. His brother, Mark, was a slender boy with hazel eyes and wavy light brown hair. Therefore, I could hardly imagine that he and John were brothers! His sister, Marrie, was a firm looking girl with hazel eyes and wavy light brown hair, just like her brother Mark. Thomas seemed to be a real rascal, with greenish eyes and yellowish hair, wearing it a bit too long for my personal taste. Thomas' sister, Chrissy, was just a little lady, also having greenish eyes and yellowish hair, just like her bigger brother. Although she now and then acted a little bit giggly, she too seemed to be a nice girl.

My inside seemed to like all five children at first sight, so that I felt lucky to have them as my new neighbors; while my heart was sure we could easily become good friends, so that I would see them more often from now on. Only, I still didn't understand why John's 'little Gypsy brother', Harry, didn't join his friends on my porch. Could their only eight-year-old youngest friend feel ashamed about being of 'Gypsy' origin? If so, that would be truly sad.

Still feeling curious about my 'former little son', I asked:

"John? Thank you very much for introducing everyone to me, and I really hope we will soon become even better friends. Only, there is something else that I still don't understand. Why doesn't your 'adopted little Gypsy brother', Harry, join you on my porch?"

Suddenly looking sad, John started to tell me a truly amazing story, now and then filled in by a few intensely listening others...

Around two years ago, all five children were playing outside in the streets, when an old car with a small Gypsy caravan attached stopped in a clearing along the road. A white-haired little boy left the caravan whilst dragging an empty water can. Silently, he looked around, until he saw the playing children, trotted towards them, and asked them for 'watter', talking with a strange accent and a surprisingly deep baritone voice. Helpfully, the children took the boy to their nearest neighbor, Jack, who just happened to wash his car in his driveway.

Jack provided the Gypsies with fresh water, food, and a couple of used clothes, while the children assisted by carrying everything to the caravan. The blond little boy's parents who didn't speak our language but seemed to be really friendly, tried to thank them abundantly. That same evening, all six children happily played outside, until darkness set in and they had to go home to get some much-needed sleep.

Some people in our village seemed to dislike Gypsies; because, in the middle of the night, their caravan was set ablaze! The man and the woman both perished in the fire. Only their six-year-old little son survived, but he was burnt all over very badly, especially his face. A howling ambulance raced him to a nearby hospital, accompanied by a furious Jack who told the boy to be brave and stay alive. Of course, there was no insurance, but Jack paid everything for the burnt boy, including his many surgeries and his medicines. For several months, Jack visited his burnt little Gypsy friend every day and helped him with everything that he needed. He comforted him with the loss of his parents, tried to cheer him up, and also taught him our language.

The same day the burnt Gypsy boy was ready to leave the hospital to start living with his 'Big Friend'; Child Protective Services took over and put him in an orphanage! Early in the morning, Jack entered an empty hospital room, and nobody could or wanted to tell him where his burnt little friend was... That morning, Jack returned home empty-handed, crying his heart out, and clearly feeling desperate.

Fortunately, John saw Jack stumbling out of his car and curling up into a tight ball whilst crying his heart out. Helpfully, John persuaded Jack to follow him into their house, where Jack told John's mother about loving the little Gypsy boy from the first moment he saw him. He had nurtured him in the hospital, helped him with everything that he needed, comforted him after the loss of his parents, and taught him our habits and our language. Over time, Jack had built a very strong relationship with the six-year-old little orphan, and promised to take him into his house and give him his own room, upstairs, second door to the left. Now, all of a sudden, the boy's hospital room was empty, and nobody knew where his burnt little friend was! The 'authorities' had taken him to an unknown orphanage without saying a word...

After listening to Jack's sad story, John's mother contacted CPS and tried to convince them to trust Jack with guardianship over the poor orphan. Only, as a single male and living all alone, there was no chance they would ever allow Jack to raise an unrelated child, being befriended or not! After several phone calls and heated discussions, John's mother and CPS finally reached a workable agreement: John's parents would take the burnt little Gypsy boy into their custody, and they would raise him until he would be at least eighteen years old.

That is how the six-year-old burnt little Gypsy boy became John's 'adopted little brother' and the special friend of all the neighborhood children. They always protected their burnt friend from any prying eyes, and they defended him from any pestering or name-calling kids in our village. Above all, they kept their secret a secret: little Harry started living with his 'Big Friend', Jack, in what was now my house. Jack helped him with everything that he needed, and little Harry got his own room in Jack's house, upstairs, second door to the left.

Two months ago, Jack suddenly died, and little Harry had to leave their shared house. Within a few days, Jack's house was up for sale and the now eight years old Gypsy boy started living in John's house. Since then, he and John had to share John's bedroom, while all his belongings were stowed away in their garage, until they would be able to find another and hopefully more definitive solution...

At hearing such an extremely sad story, I nearly started to cry, also because I felt overwhelmed by an intense feeling of compassion for this only eight years old burnt little Gypsy boy who had to endure such an enormous burden. Why had life been so extremely cruel to such a young kid? And, as a trained psychotherapist, would I be able to help the poor orphan, after he first lost his parents and now also his 'Big Friend'? Of course, the burnt little boy would always be welcome in my house! If he ever wanted to have his 'own' room back, I would happily give it to him and probably even furnish it for him!

I also thought of the neatly maintained little 'garden' I had found in my new backyard that was surrounded by several white cobblestones and filled with many abundantly flowering 'weeds'. Had the late Jack and his burnt little Gypsy friend set it up together? And, could little Harry be still maintaining his 'own' property, after Jack passed away? Again, I looked at John, to ask him my questions.

However, very much to my surprise, all five children were still staring at me as if they were waiting for me to answer an important question first! What were they still waiting for? Hadn't John told me everything about his burnt little Gypsy brother that I needed to know? To convince them even more that I really wanted to be their friend, I involuntarily started to promise again:

"Of course, your burnt little Gypsy friend will always be welcome in his former home. And, if he ever wants his 'own' room back, I will happily give it to him and even help him furnish it. Of course, all of you are always welcome in my house as well, and I promise again that I will try to help you with everything that I can..."

Still, something didn't feel right. Although all five kids seemed to listen intensely, they also kept stealing furtive glances at me and at each other. Were they not satisfied with my generous promises? What were they still waiting for? Could I have overlooked something? Only, what could I have missed whilst listening to John's sad story? What should I do now, to reassure them and, if possible, to convince them even more that I really wanted to help their burnt little friend?

After a long and awkward silence, John suddenly continued:

"I think that my adopted Gypsy brother is afraid to show his burns to you as a stranger, because his entire body is damaged really badly all over, especially his face. Nearly every stranger who sees him for the first time feels shocked, sometimes even faints, of laughs at him and shoos him away, or calls him a 'freak' or an 'alien'..."

Again, all five kids looked at me, this time with expectant faces as if they hoped and prayed that I would keep my promises to accept and perhaps even help their so badly burnt little Gypsy friend...

Only, my perplexed brain had already tumbled into severe shock, while my throat choked up from my unexpectedly welling emotions, and my suddenly cramping body started to tremble all over and felt like paralyzed! An emotional lightning bolt struck my wildly beating heart, as if some hitherto hidden emotional time bomb suddenly woke up and exploded into my inside; thereby making my trembling body shudder violently with even more distress and agony.

Unexpectedly, all my so carefully suppressed remembrances from my own horrible childhood came slamming back into my severely shocked consciousness whilst tumbling over each other! My strained body crumpled together in agony, while I fell back onto my folding chair and gasped for air. All at once, at hearing those two so loathed words, 'freak' and 'alien', all my hitherto suppressed sufferings came returning into my shocked mind. Like a sudden thunderclap, all those horrible experiences showed up in my inside and cruelly crushed all my built-up defenses. My baffled mind nearly collapsed into darkness, sot that I had to struggle with all of my might to stay conscious.

Those two so terribly loathed words, 'freak' and 'alien', irresistibly brought back all the horrible experiences from my own childhood, as if everything had happened yesterday! This time, I also understood the hesitancy of the children, and why John had asked me to be nice to that poor boy. Their little Gypsy friend was burnt very badly all over, especially his face... Nearly every stranger who saw him for the first time, laughed at him or called him a 'freak' or an 'alien'... Feeling like throwing up, my strained body continued to cramp and shudder, while the outside world felt like turning around and around.

With trembling legs that started to feel more and more wobbly, I forced my shuddering body to leave my folding chair and flee into the relative safety of my house. Tumbling over my own feet, I wavered inside, on my way avoiding five pairs of frightened eyes... This was too much for me! I couldn't deal with such a terrible fate for the second time! I came here for my retirement, and NOT to be saddled up with another burnt little boy! What should I do now?

Inside my house, I wavered towards my living room whilst on my way forcefully kicking one of my new chairs out of the way, before I slumped down on my new couch and buried my too heavy head in my hands, in the meantime still struggling to stay conscious.

Whilst trembling all over, I just didn't know how to cope with all those unexpectedly returning memories from my horrible past. All my so carefully suppressed and long forgotten emotions from my own extremely difficult childhood continued to flash back into my shocked mind, feeling like tumbling over each other and thereby making my trembling body shudder with even more horror. Feeling more and more desperate, I shouted into my new living room:

"Why me again? What did I do wrong this time?"

I was fourteen years old; and my little brother, Joshie, was eight. Our parents were socializing somewhere in our neighborhood, as they used to do nearly every evening. I was lying on my bed in my own bedroom, reading a comic book. My little brother was playing in his own bedroom, and everything in our house felt calm and peaceful...

Suddenly, my little brother started to scream, while he left his own room and entered my bedroom in panic, urging me to help him. He had set his clothes and his hair on fire and clearly didn't know what to do! In vain, his small hands tried to slap at the already blazing flames, while he started to scream louder and louder. He had tried to light an unwilling candle; but, somehow, something went awfully wrong.

At first, I panicked too, because I didn't know how to help my now screeching little brother. Desperately, I tried to put out the more and more blazing flames with my comic book. However, every time, they flared up again! What should I do, and where were our parents now that we needed them? Hoping for the best, I pulled my still loudly screeching little brother into our bathroom and put him under the shower, to extinguish the more and more blazing fire. Thankfully, that helped. Next, I went to Joshie's bedroom, to extinguish anything else that might be burning. Fortunately, the only burnt things I could find were a couple of used matches and a dropped candle.

Feeling relieved, I returned to the shower, where Joshie was still squirming under the splashing water, crying loudly and clearly feeling more and more pain. When I tried to help him by peeling off his burnt clothes, some burnt skin came off too, while he restarted to scream louder and louder! Desperately, I tried to remember where my parents were, but I didn't know their address and also couldn't leave Joshie alone. Then, I remembered the emergency-number and raced to our old telephone in our hallway... Ten very long minutes later, a loudly howling ambulance arrived in our street with screeching tires. The ambulance personnel took one look at my still loudly crying little brother, and then brought him at full speed to a nearby hospital.

The next couple of months felt like a horrible nightmare that didn't want to come to an end. Day after day, I visited Joshie's hospital, to see my little brother and also ask the attending nurses for any news, while I stared at a white little mummy that was connected to a bunch of blinking and beeping machines. The nurses told me that my brother was very lucky to be alive; and, so far, everything had gone relatively well. Most of the time, his surgeons had sedated him, to suppress the searing pain and to immobilize him after his umpteenth surgery.

After many worrisome months, little Joshie finally returned home. Again, an ambulance showed up in our street, but this time without any screeching tires and the accompanying howling sounds. Then, my burnt little brother showed up and was quickly brought inside. Only, from now on, little Joshie looked more like some 'freaky alien'! His small hands were reduced to tiny stumps, he breathed through a tube in his throat, and he couldn't speak anymore. His terribly burnt face looked like a scary mask with only a few dark holes in it. His little pug nose and both ears were totally gone, and his head had lost all of its dark brown hair and was now completely bald...

The next day, my own nightmare began. Almost immediately, my parents started to blame ME for what had happened, because I hadn't properly looked after my little brother. Therefore, they had decided to help me 'develop some more responsibility', by teaching me a lesson they were sure I would never forget. From now on, I had to take my burnt little brother with me, anytime I wanted to leave our house.

The first time I took my burnt little brother outside, turned out to be a nightmare. Most people stared at us and laughed at Joshie's burnt face, while others stopped dead in their tracks, looked shocked, or called my little brother a 'freak' or an 'alien'... For several weeks, I had a terrible time, until I taught myself how to shut off all my emotions. From then on, I just dragged my burnt little brother along, without ever looking around. Joshie never protested and always obediently walked at my side, with his tiny stump safely enveloped in my hand.

Soon, even my 'friends' left me alone, probably to avoid looking at the 'freaky alien' that accompanied me. Whenever we met them, they disappeared as fast as they could, or they laughed sheepishly whilst telling each other jokes about 'landed aliens' and 'freaky nightmares'. At last, I started to feel depressed and even thought about leaving my hell by committing suicide. However, I didn't want to cause Joshie even more problems, in addition to the difficulties he already had. Ultimately, all this was MY fault, at least according to my parents...

Fortunately, both for Joshie and for me, he suddenly died; so that I was 'free' again and allowed to leave our house without dragging my burnt little brother along. Only, I didn't know anymore how to cope with my newly gained freedom and couldn't stop crying. Surprisingly, I also missed the little imp who always trustfully walked next to me, with his burnt little stump in my hand! My parents tried to comfort me, by telling me they weren't angry anymore and again loved me dearly. However, I couldn't believe them anymore and just went on crying and crying. Unfortunately, I turned out to be right. Soon, my parents turned against me and started to blame me again...

The day after I became eighteen years old, I left 'home' and never went back. Before I left the house, I first raided my dad's wallet and emptied my mom's emergency strongbox, to be able to buy the most needed necessities. Finally feeling FREE, I went to a far-away town and effortlessly rented a room. Only, how would I ever survive in this unknown town, as a newly liberated bachelor? Hesitatingly, I went to a local store and applied for a job... Fortunately, the nice storeowner could use my help and even offered me a good wage.

Then, I read in a newspaper about some new foundation. A couple of wealthy people wanted to help poor but gifted students, by offering them a scholarship... Of course, I immediately applied! After they had tested me, they told me I seemed to be extremely bright and therefore could easily achieve anything that I wanted. Thus, they would be very happy to accept me as their first fully supported student.

After many years of arduous study, I graduated cum laude as their youngest psychotherapist ever. All my new friends and acquaintances showed up and congratulated me with such a wonderful achievement, except for my always-absent parents. Next, I rented an apartment and started to work as a freelancer, advertising to help troubled young children and their often desperate parents. Soon, I had plenty of work; and both my little clients and their grateful parents always told me I turned out to be an excellent therapist, having an astonishing insight into what troubled young children went through... duh!

After I met an old Indian Shaman and listened to his stories, I also became interested in 'alternative' therapies that I could use to help my little clients even better, like reading their 'body language', sending them 'Universal Love' to calm them down and help them trust me, and many other alternative therapies like 'aura reading and healing'. After working hard and saving enough money, I bought my own house, married a nice colleague, and we got two lovable daughters.

During all those years, I had thoroughly trained myself to forget everything about my burnt little brother and my difficult youth. I had also taught my inside to repress immediately any disturbing thoughts about my always-absent parents and my troublesome childhood. After many years of denial and pushing all my unwanted emotions into the background, finally, my disturbing feelings of guilt seemed to have vanished. Finally, I was able to help eight-year-old little boys without immediately thinking of my own little brother and my own childhood. I even started to feel relatively happy with my life as it was.

That is, until I grew older, divorced, retired, bought a new house, and met five cheeky neighborhood children who showed up in front of my house whilst calling me an 'old man' and an 'ancient grandpa'. They wanted to talk to me, but first tumbled into my driveway. Then, their oldest boy, John, told me that nearly every stranger called his eight-year-old burnt little Gypsy brother a 'freak' or an 'alien'...

Instantly, all emotional hell broke loose in my inside, as if time hadn't existed and I was still only fourteen years old! As nuclear time bombs, all my repressed feelings of guilt and shame exploded whilst forcefully breaking through my carefully built-up emotional defenses. My too extreme reaction told me that I had only repressed my anger and sorrows, without ever dealing with the still underlying traumas. Little Joshie was burnt on his face and his hands, but I am still burnt in my soul! I can still feel the pain, the shame, and the humiliations from my own horrible childhood. Therefore, I am sure that I can NOT stand having another burnt little boy around! Or, can I?

As an experienced psychotherapist, I knew that a confrontation with a similar incident sometimes brings forth all the hitherto hidden and repressed traumas, and often even cures them. Perhaps, that burnt little Gypsy boy would be able to release my still lingering old pain and maybe also comfort my still crying soul? However, I dreaded the undoubtedly very painful confrontation. Plus, I absolutely didn't want to misuse that little boy's misery for my own profit...

Still feeling numb and dizzy, I left my couch and dragged myself into my kitchen, to wet my face and drink some water. That helped a little bit, so that my trembling body recovered somewhat and I started to feel less shaky. Then, I decided to do something drastic about my emotional misery. After taking a couple of deep breaths, I forced my inside to regain my composure and my normal strength immediately. Fortunately, during my difficult childhood, I had thoroughly trained myself in fighting down my sorrows until they just disappeared.

Within a few minutes, I had fought down my troubling emotions and restarted to become my joyful 'normal' self. Then, I thought of my still waiting little neighbors on my porch. How would they feel, now that their 'ancient grandpa' suddenly started to cry and left them alone, without giving them any explanation? Would they be still waiting for me? Quickly, I hurried back to my porch, planning to offer them my humble excuses and perhaps another cup of tea.

Only, my porch was now empty. Clearly, all five young neighbors had already left, probably feeling tired of waiting for the so weirdly behaving 'old man'. Feeling disappointed and also a little bit guilty, I slumped down on my folding chair. From there, I stealthily looked around, hoping that at least John would show up again and accept my humble excuses. However, wherever I looked, the street in front of my newly bought house was empty, and it remained empty.