My mom died on March 6, 2014. My mother passed away due to injuries she sustained in a car accident caused by a drunk driver on February 14, 2014. Now, this isn’t about drunk driving and why it’s bad, it’s about that my mom died. I didn’t realize it then, at that exact moment, the effect her death was going to have on my life. Now, if I tell this story, I’m going to tell it in its entirety, there is no cutting the faff. Everything I’ve done from the day she passed to today, has shaped the person that sits in front of this computer screen. 

I still remember the night we all gathered in the cramped hospital hallway, it was her birthday, March 5, 2014. I had the assumption that something had to be of importance regarding her health. My 13-year-old assumption was based upon the swiftness and urgency of how we commuted to the hospital, the slow responses being uttered by my drunken uncle, and the overall tone of silence.

Once we were all ‘hanging ‘round the water cooler’, the doctor called us back, and from that moment forward my mind was set on nothing but the worst. It was when myself and brothers were settled in on the cramped, uncomfortable sofa in her room, her mother and sister in the corner by her bed, is when I knew she was dying. The doctor began narrating his prepared script, “injuries sustained blah blah blah, swelling of the brain, blah blah blah.” But once the cold words ‘Brain Dead’ fell from his lips, it sucked all the hope, patience, and life out of the room. Emotions. Rampant cries, moans, whimpers, and pleas. To be honest, I can’t describe exactly how I felt. I choose not to remember- but I do remember that I definitely wasn’t strong.  After the doctor was finished, my family lined up in the hallway to say our final words. Me and my brother were dead last in the line, when we walked in,  I shut the door behind me. My brother and I looked at each other, then away. We looked back at each other once more to see the tears welling in our eyes, and we lost it. I had to stare out the window, because my head was pounding and I felt as if I couldn’t handle the situation anymore. My other 2 brothers came in and immediately started the consoling process. We stood in a circle, heads bent in, and arms around each other. The oldest of us, Robert kept repeating “She would be proud of us.” We stood in that room for 10 minutes in that circle, and afterwards, we all separated. Sadly, that separation has lasted, for I rarely see my brothers anymore.

As I left the hospital the next morning my mind wandered. The one person who always believed in me, the one who loved me unconditionally, and dusted me off when I fell down is gone. Poof, just like that. She was unconscious most of her time in the hospital, however, there were two occasions where she wasn’t, that I know of at least. The first was the night of the accident, and the second was a few days before she passed. In that time, the second time specifically, I was the only person present in the room. What she said to me, will stick with me until my time here is done. She couldn’t verbally speak, because of the tubes down her throat; but her eyes and expression could. The look she gave me, at least the way I interpreted it, was as the following, “I love you son, I taught you the best that I could, I have the faith that you will take those experiences and make me proud.” After that, she slipped back into her happy place, and it's the last waking moment I shared with my mother.

I continued to just barely survive. I haven’t mentioned it, but at that time in my life, my Dad and I didn’t have the best connection, he was struggling with anger and alcohol issues. So, my mom and I were living with her friend, Robert in Elliston. He worked thirds at Jeep so he was gone by the time I came home from school and knocked out by the time I woke up. Here is where the battle for self-reliance began. I had to take on so much that I hadn’t realized. I had to wake myself up, feed myself, do my own laundry, all while still being this little 13 year old. I was miserable, I lost sleep, my grades slipped, and I began to hate life. I found myself smoking, I had no one to confide in. Despite the fact I had friends who said they were there for me, I still thought that I had no one. I thought no one could relate, I mean who’s got a dead Mom?

As my addiction to the sweet nicotine grew, I found myself distant from reality. After 7th grade ended, I was legally required to move back with my father. We met a common ground upon my return, I stay in my current school as long as my grades stay up. Which leads to my worst year of school, 8th grade. Here is where my chronic marijuana habit began. There were only a handful of days where I didn’t show up to school baked. The idea of school became frail in my mind, and I found myself on the brink of delinquency.

8th grade concluded, and problems between my Dad and I began physically swirling back into existence. At one point it got pretty bad, he tried laying his hands on me. I ran out of the backdoor of my house, and hopped the fence. I headed to my brother’s house, a block a way. Here is where my summer “on the run” began. Over the summer of 8th grade, I spent my time at either my brother’s house, or my friends house in Elliston. At my brother’s I’d sit and play videogames and live like a vegetable, but at my buddies’ house it was different. See, this was the friend that got me to start smoking. We’d go down into his basement and toke. Afterwards, I would stay in the basement, thinking about my life, and everything that was going on. Before I was such an optimistic person, and through the benefits of one plant, it turned my life around. I came to the realization that the world doesn’t run purely off of optimism. I began forming my pessimistic views, not to live as a crabby hermit mad at the world. But to rebuild myself, to give myself the ability to look at a situation and dissect it from both angles. This mindset allowed me to re-evaluate myself, my situation, and my actions. Extensive thought about my Mother’s death, eventually led me to this conclusion. “Sometimes in life things happen, sometimes for an unknown reason. And rather search for the reason, understand that there is no answer. You could scour the earth end to end, year after year, and still turn away with nothing. What happened to me cannot be changed, there is nothing me, nor anyone could do to bring my mother back.” After this, I was able to heal.

My friends mother began to worry that I was in a deep depression. Between the amount of time I spent alone in that basement, and my decrease of human interaction, she had every right to be worried. She then got in contact with one of her friends, who just so happened to be a life long friend of my mother’s. That friend then got in contact with my Uncle who lived in Genoa, he swooped in and took me back to his house. These particular series of events is where I believe to have achieved everything I have. 

See, up until I started living with my Uncle, I had a deep deep hatred for my Father. On top of that, they kept feeding me lies about my Mother and her past, along with my father. But until I began to see what a true disaster of a marriage my Uncle was in, is when I was able to understand what my father had been trying to communicate to me. He just wanted to make sure I didn’t grow up ill-informed, and make poor choices and end up like my Uncle, not that my Dad is any better. I was also under a lot of restrictions at my Uncle's, which I grew to hate. And the icing on the cake was when I found out all they cared about was the Social Security money I would receive to fill the gap of her presence. After the summer had concluded, a month into the new school year I had made amends with my father. I swallowed my losses, wore my pride high and moved back with my father. I came back with a new mindset, a new personality, a whole new me.

Now, this story was long. And the take away isn’t very well presented. But what I learned throughout those three years, and even today, it helps to be alone. I also was given a new viewpoint of life, things I took for granted, are no longer abused. But most importantly I learned that life has no rulebook, there aren’t exceptions for anyone. Bad things don’t happen to bad, or good people; they happen to everyone. At the end of the day, make sure your loved ones don’t only know your love for them, but they can feel it as well. Dwelling on what you cannot change is dangerous, it took over my life, and almost destroyed me. Our time here is short, and wrapping yourself in a blanket of the past, puts your future to rest.