The Past

Don't ask why I decided to write about my past. But i just felt like it. So if you don't like it, tough toolies. I need to vent.

Childhood

My childhood wasn't anything really special. I lived on a farm, in the middle of nowhere, with my grandparents and brothers. My mom and dad lived in a trailer still on the property, but Howard (bio dad) didn't want us to live with them, so we lived with grandma and grandpa. My little brother, my grandmother, and I shared a bedroom until I was about 8, when my older brother graduated from high school. Then I got his room, I wasn't very thrilled though. It was another 3 years before I could sleep in there by myself, and another 4 years until I could sleep without a night light.

Before I was ten, my life was pretty normal. Living in the country meant that I had a lot of space to run around in, and when I was little I used that to my full advantage. Rain sleet or show, I was outside playing pretend of some sort. When sickness held me indoors, I watched Disney movies over and over until they were imprinted on my brain. As I grew older, I developed a love for the written word. My first book was Hop on Pop, lol. I moved up very quickly on the reading scale, reading at a 4th grade level at grade 2. but my spelling wasn’t exactly up to par, and without spell check, it still wouldn't be.

Then, when I turned ten, a disaster struck my family.

I remember that day…March 29, 2001. I had just turned 10, and my mom and dad had gone to California for awhile to see my dad’s mom. She came back with loads of presents for me, and wanted to be in every picture around. This was strange, because usually my mom was very camera shy.

That day, she came home from work late. She didn’t look too good, but I didn’t notice much. I was too busy chattering about the field trip the next day, excited to go to the zoo. She was talking to grandma about her chest pains, and how she couldn’t lift much because of them. My mom was always in the hospital for something or other. Her first open heart was when she was 25 for Pete’s sake! As she talked to my grandmother, she helped me fix my hair into two ponytails. She gave me a note for the next day, and took us to school.

“I’ll pick you up after school, rugrat.” She said, kissing me on the forehead. That was her pet name for me. Rugrat. But that was also the last thing she said to me.

Later I found out that she went home and talked to grandma for awhile longer, before calling her best friend and then going to sleep for awhile. She had told my grandma to wake her up when it was time to get us kids from school.

Hours passed. Around two, grandma called. No answer. She called again. Still no answer. After about four more tries, she sent my grandpa over. He found her in her bed, with her cats surrounding her, almost protectively. So she basically had fallen asleep and never woke up.

That day, at around two thirty, my aunt came to the school. She had been crying. I asked her where was mom, and she teared up and said, “Sleeping.” Mike said something like figures, or was it me? We went to McDonalds, a real treat at the time, then went to her house. An oddity. We never went to her house. I asked her, “What’s wrong Aunty Jill? Is it grandpa? Grandma?” she shook her head no and said wait and see.

All too soon the phone rang. Grandma wanted us to come home. So we grabbed our happy meals, and made our way out to the farm. We went through the back door, and there was someone sitting in our kitchen that I didn’t recognize. I hurried to my room and threw my stuff on the bed. Patrick, my oldest brother, came in through the garage just as I was exiting his former room. He swooped me into a hug and moved on. Grandma called us all into the living room, and Uncle Ronny was there. She, grandpa, Patrick, Uncle Ronny and Aunt Jill wrapped themselves around Mike and I.

“Mumma died.” Grandma whispered, and my heart stopped. What?

“Is this some joke?” I said in disbelief. I wanted to scream and run to the trailer, see for myself. I was only held tighter and grandma said no, and she started to cry. I knew she wasn’t lying.

How could she leave me? How could she! How DARE she! When I needed her the most? I asked myself questions like these over and over as I cried and cried and cried. Mike didn’t understand, he was only 7 at the time. He cried for maybe ten minutes, then started playing with his toys. I remember asking myself: how could he? When our worlds had just fallen apart?

I ran into my room and cried some more. Phone calls were being made, and family began filling the house. I was asked if I wanted to make any calls. I didn’t have any friends at the time, but I called Melinda anyway. I told her what happened, and hoped she would tell the rest of the class. I cried myself to sleep that night.

The next week passed in a blur. The funeral was hell. People that I didn’t know where hugging me and crying, saying I looked just like her. I ran out at one point, not able to handle the stress anymore. Patrick followed, and held me while I calmed down. I wore new clothes that we had gone to The Cities to get. A real treat. But I didn’t care. I just wanted my mom back.

.......to be continued