I finally stopped moving that day and at some point ended up on my friend’s porch. She sat with me for hours never saying a word, she just rubbed my back and consoled me as I cried. She was, and still is one of the best friends that I have ever had. (That is a story for another day.)
That fateful day in late September 1975 was a rude awakening.
It came too hard and too fast for me to grasp on any emotional level and I grew up, literally overnight.
Previous to that day, I had believed my parents were incapable of lying about anything other than Santa Claus and the Tooth-fairy. I was a child, I was selfish, and somehow in my mind I justified the Santa Claus and Tooth-fairy tale. I suppose in some way we all do, because the lies come with the promise of gifts, money and chocolate in exchange for believing.
Reality check – my parents were not perfect – what a shocking disappointment!
The true loss of innocence is like falling off a massive comfy couch and getting hit on the head for the very first time. You start to look around and realize that things aren’t exactly as you thought they were.
It is in that very moment, when you also realize you are going to grow up, no matter how hard you try to avoid, and it scares you.
I just didn’t think, I would grow up so fast!
The funeral was a horrible experience. It took over my life for the next couple of days. It is the kind of place where laughing and making jokes is unacceptable, unfortunately, that’s the thing I seem to do best so I didn’t say a word. I thought it would be best if I just stayed quiet. I might have been young, but I wasn’t stupid.
I couldn’t cry, it just showed weakness and I was trying to be strong. Every time someone cried, my mother went into a crying fit. That was unbearable to watch and not something I was willing to contribute to, so I spent most of the time reading downstairs in the coffee room trying to keep my mind busy.
What else was I supposed to do?
It was better than being introduced to yet another relative. A relative that I have never known, nor ever wanted to get to know. They were strangers to me. Strangers that felt it was somehow prudent to go around pinching my cheek and kissing me on the head. Honestly, I was thinking to myself, kiss my cheek one more time, go ahead, just one more time and I am going to get off this chair and… I didn’t have an “and,” but I knew if I did, it would not be good.
The funeral was an ending and a beginning. The end of the simple carefree life that I had known and the beginning of the life I was going to have. I suppose, this is where the next part of my story truly begins.
I hope you travel along with me as I journey into my garden of life as a writer, mother, friend, wife, daughter, sister, aunt and community member.
This blog is dedicated to sharing my own personal article collections and contains things I want to write about, things I want to share with my readers and things that I have created during my career that I am proud of.
I have but one wish in that I will inspire others to do the same. This is the mad files, my very own path in the garden of life.