I have been taking a bit of a break recently, from most of my online posting. I am around, but rarely have anything to post. I have things to post, really...but haven't felt up to it, or have had a hard time wrapping my head around the things I want to write, and forming the words to write them. So, I have backed away and let my mind rest a little. I hope this proves to have been the right move, and that I can soon find myself in full swing again.
November 30th marks a very difficult day for me (especially this year), and I spent most of the month of November feeling the pressure of the inevitable crossing of our paths...
Take a little stroll down memory lane, although I was too young to actually remember...all I have of memories are those that have been passed on to me by others:November 30th, 1979
A divorced mom of 2 toddlers, Linda worked as a bartender at night...her boyfriend came in at the end of her shift, to have a drink and drive her home. They stopped at the sitters house to pick up Linda's children...the younger of the two, a 16-month old girl, was being held in the lap of her mother, as they flew down back-roads in the country, to avoid being pulled over on the highway. Her boyfriend, driving the car, sped down the dirt road, missing his turn, and jerked the wheel to attempt to make the turn. Instead, he flipped the car multiple times, and landed it in a field, in the dark. Both children were thrown from the car. Her boyfriend walked away.
Yes, he did. He walked away, and left them all behind.
Later that morning, an elderly couple was driving down the road, and spotted the car out in the field, and stopped. There, they heard crying. Somehow, that 16-month old little girl, and her 3 year old brother had managed to survive the night, alone, in a field. Linda was found, still buckled in her seat.
There have been so many different stories and versions of stories...but none have ever brought me any closure...and I have a feeling that I am not the only one who wishes for some sort of closure from her death.
A day that should have been spent celebrating her Aunt's birthday, was instead spent mourning her death. She was 22 years old.
Linda was my Mother. I was that 16-month old little girl.
This is the 30th year since her passing, and although I never got to know my Mom, I miss her in ways many just don't understand.
Over the years, I have heard countless comments of how I reminded someone of my mother...my favorite: That I am stubborn and opinionated, just like my mother.
Nobody talks about her anymore...not that they really ever did, but it seems like everyone has locked her away. I have asked my Dad to tell me more about her, and my Grandpa, but nobody wants to talk about her. I understand that it is still painful, even 30 years later, but I have a hard time understanding wanting to hold it in, and not talk about her, not SHARE the beautiful memories that they have of her.
Is it selfish to want to know more about this person, after whom I take in so many ways? Am I wrong to want closure? Will I ever GET that closure? The man she loved, who took her life, got away with murder. I wonder...what did he do with the rest of HIS life, after he cut hers short? Did he go on and have a family, and find happiness? Did he do something MEANINGFUL with his life, in an effort to somehow right his wrong?
I have so many questions that I want to ask, and yet, I have nobody to ask.
I try to find comfort in my own children, and my love for them. I think about the fact that my children are similar in age to what my brother and I were, when our mother was taken from us. I spent much of my life paranoid of dying the same way she did, or at the same age...so, when I turned 23, I actually breathed a sigh of relief. I also spent a lot of time being a designated driver, and still do. And I have battled it out with the people in MY life NOT to let them drive drunk and risk taking the life of another, or their own.
I have tried very hard to turn this negative into a positive, but sometimes, it's hard to see past the tears and heartache of not having her in my life.
This year is not just hard because it has been 30 years. This year is hard because I have children now, and my children have just recently passed the ages that my brother and I were when she died...and I see the phases that they have gone through since those ages, and realize just how much she really missed out on. My daughter developed quite a personality around 16-18 months of age that she never really displayed before that. She has since begun to say "Love You"s and her vocabulary....WOW! She's a talker!
It has also been in these later phases that my toddlers have learned to show each other amazing affections...I watch as my son guides my daughter down the stairs, holding her hand, or helps her down from a chair, or hugs her and gives her kisses and apologies for taking a toy, or hurting her by being too rough. I watch as she gets tired of his constant toy-taking and "BOY-TUDE", and sneaks in a few punches and pinches, and an occasional scratch or bite. And though I may sometimes feel frustrated by these phases and stages they go through, I remember each day how lucky I am just to be here, alive, and playing my special role in developing them into the amazing people that I know they will be.
Although I had requested some stories and memories, as well as any recollection of my mother's ambitions, or favorites in life, and was met with no response, I understand that time doesn't always heal the pain of loss. Sometimes, we just learn to mask it and push past it, to live our lives the best we can. I just hope that I am able to get some answers to my questions before it is too late. I want my children to be able to read about my Mom...their Grandma, and know her in a way I still desire to know her.