Surviving

January 16, 2018

When my mom took her life it was a Saturday. It was also a month to the day  from my fifth birthday. It was also 39 years ago on January 20.

My dad was at a Bears game when Mom snapped. She put us in our room, shoved a blanket beneath the door, and started the car in the garage. She told us not to leave the room. I ventured out at least once, but I was afraid of her anger, so I turned around.

Dad gave me all the documents about her death a couple months ago. They estimated she died around 8. Dad came home a couple hours later and found her. He found me sick and unconscious on the bedroom floor. 

I can't imagine what it was like for him. But he assures me it is the love and kindness of so many that sustained him. In this packet he handed me was a long list of Papa Bears and South Haven-ites who gave and did and who just showed up. He knows. And I think he gives to people without ceasing because he remembers what people did for him on that icy January 20. And because he is just a great guy.

I will always value the hoards of good friends and family who stepped in more than I will hurt from the pain of that day. I will always ache for my mother. But I survived.