Into the abyss

18 years ago today my mom was killed in a car accident somewhere around 9pm. She was 44 years old. She left behind two daughters, a son, a husband that loved her more than life, a mother and numerous friends. I was 11, my sister was 14 and my brother was 18.

I was going to write a lengthy post about how her death ruined impacted the family. How a disabled man was left to raise two young daughters on his own. The absolute disbelief and horror that washed across his face when the police officers came to our front door to deliver the news. What it’s like as a little girl to see your mother laying in a open but veil covered casket because of the severity of her injuries. How odd and cold her fingers felt when I slipped my hand beneath the veil to touch her one last time. To hear your father weep and cry out your mothers name in his sleep. The psychiatric problems associated with losing a parent violently and suddenly at such a formidable age. The regret you carry when the last words you speak to a mother that is minutes away from being killed are hateful and nasty. How it feels to never be able to look her in the eyes and say “I’m so sorry”. To dream about her crying. What it’s like to have to discuss as a young girl your first period, the difference between tampons and pads, and every other “mommy - daughter” conversation you can imagine, with your dad. How it feels to watch a sister spiral down into an abyss of alcoholism from childhood to adulthood- the same abyss that swallowed your mother.

I was going to explain in depth and detail all of the above and so much more. Most importantly, I was going to explain how it all could have been avoided had she just not gotten behind the wheel drunk.

But here’s the thing, I’m not going to go into the depth and detail of any of it any more than I already have (please hold your applause). I’d rather go back to bed.