The Summer of '79

The scene must have been very upsetting to the lady working there because she came running into the room where the casket was and tried to stop me. Concerned for me she started hugging me, telling me it was going to be okay. She started crying as well because she was not sure how to help me.

Embarrassed, I quickly regained my composure and apologized for my behavior  then became stoic again. Deep down inside I knew it was never going to be okay because I honestly believed I had killed my Mom. I was never going to have a chance to apologize or take back those horrible words I said to her. I hated myself as I walked to my car to return home.

The funeral was held at the  chapel  in the funeral home on Military Parkway .  I really don’t remember much about it. What I do remember is as the service ended and I stood up to walk down the aisle I was shocked at how many kids from my high school were there. My friends had come to support me even some from junior high school attended. My heart was deeply touched by this outpouring of support but the accusing thoughts would not end and I thought if they knew what I said to my mom they wouldn’t be here.  My thoughts were “They don’t know how bad I really am”. The mask I had always worn went back on but it was different now, there was so much more to hide and I felt so very tired. 

After the funeral a few of  my friends and I went on a graduation trip to Hawaii. Peri and I had planned this trip for over a year and were so excited about it. Cheri, Patty , and a girl named Laura joined us . We left not long after burying momma. It was good to get away from it all and I was an expert and pushing my emotions down so I had fun on the surface at least. We spent our days on the beach soaking in the sun, I even took up surfing: ))  Peri laughed  as I lugged around my huge surf board and gave me the nickname Gidget because we had just watch  the move Gidget and Gidget goes Hawaiian before we left for Hawaii . We spent our nights dancing the night away at the various discos to “We Are Family”, “Cocaine”, “YMCA” “Knock on Wood” and all the popular songs at the time. Then we would catch a pedi cab and go get some tacos at Jack in the Box ( thank God for tacos from Jack in Box even in Hawaii)  :)) It was a much needed break from my tragic reality. We returned home for a week and then Peri, my dad, and I  went to Arkansas for a week to  Lake Ouachita. A yearly  trip we always took since before David died but this year it was different, it was just sad and depressing.  That would be the last vacation we ever took. I dreaded returning home , fearing my new normal. The first thing I learned after arriving back in Dallas was my boyfriend had a new girlfriend. I was devastated and heart broken. The rejection I felt was overwhelming.

After the funeral, things returned to “normal.”  Sadly my dad went back to the lake house and I stayed in the family house on Van Pelt. I was by myself and alone again.  I had felt alone before because momma was always passed out but now I was truly by myself and my job as a caretaker was over. There was no purpose to my life now. There was nothing to do in that big empty house

This proved to be one of the darkest times in my life. I had no skills to cope with day to day life or the tools to even begin the grieving process. I just shut the door to the room where she died and never went in there.

Fear paralyzed me  all the time and I couldn’t escape the darkness. Everything reminded me of death.. I also closed the doors to the room where my brother David had died. This simple act made me feel I could shut out all the darkness so that it could not get me. It would be trapped and not consume me.

That summer was the start of the most disturbing recurring nightmares. This evil dream came every night without fail. In the nightmare I would be in the house and my mother and brother would appear in clown makeup. They were riding tricycles, chasing me, and taunting me.  I would run from them down an endless hallway looking back frantically fearing they were gaining ground. They wore maniacal smiles as they pedaled the tricycles grabbing at me but never catching me.    They would be screaming what a horrible excuse of a person I was and why hadn’t I been a better daughter to my mother? They would blame me for killing her.  They said I was a murderer.

Then suddenly I would jerk awake in a cold sweat, crying uncontrollably. Getting up, still in a somewhat fog,  I would run across the hall to my parents room  hoping to find someone to comfort me but then it would all come back and  I would remember I was  all alone in that house where they both died such tragic deaths. And then I would cry myself back to sleep hoping the evil clowns wouldn’t visit  me again. I felt so isolated from the world and everyone in it.  It was such a horrific experience and time for me. I’m troubled even now as I write about it.