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    ZOWIENUT1   14,291
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That Night..... January 14, 1975

Monday, July 19, 2010

......Paul was sleeping in that king sized bed, when all of a sudden he jumped up and started yelling "purple spots......purple spots!" He ran down the stairs exclaiming loudly, words that made no sense. At the bottom of the stairs he finally woke from his dream and plopped himself down. As I stood there looking at him, He quietly got up and went upstairs to bed. Fully awake I got dressed and quietly slipped out the back door. The air was crisp and the night was clear. I walked around to the front of the house and just kept walking. It was well into the night.......the neighborhood was sleeping peacefully as if nothing had happened that day to change anybody's life. I was fifteen and my spirit was so heavy around my neck that it strangled me. I walked down the middle of the street in a stupor like a zombie. I almost didn't know where I was. It seemed as if I were dreaming. That all of a sudden reality would hit me up side the head and wake me. That I would find myself in my canopy bed snuggled under my covers. Dutchess lying at my feet with the sound of my mom and brothers sawing logs in the other room. I walked and walked. The roads deserted that time of night softly covered with packed down snow. As I walked I passed by houses with families in them. Whole real complete families. And I wondered why my life was the way it was. Having never experienced what those other people experienced everyday in those other houses. Brokenness is all that I had known. My life had always been chopped up, fragmented and broken. Broken moments and broken emotions....stripped away from my...... I felt that primal scream coming up from the pit of my stomach, pushing its way out and I began to run. I ran and ran not sure where I was going and yet knowing exactly where I would end up. I ran through the neighborhood and deep into the night. Through the fields that separated my neighborhood from my grandmas. I was crying as I ran. I was alone. The survivors....my brothers, my uncle and my grandma asleep back at the house on Pennie Street. I ran three miles before I came to rest at the foot of my destination. I stood and looked at the cute little house on Princess Street that I had come to know as Home. It didn't look any different than the night before....except that my mom’s car wasn't in the driveway. I trotted up the walk and went into the house. I called out almost out of breath...."MOM.....I'M HOME!" Silence greeted me. Complete silence. I turned and went into the living room. I could see the tree in the dark. I bent down and plugged in the Christmas Lights. And I sat down in the big overstuffed chair that was my mom’s favorite. I sat and watched the lights twinkle on and off. I sat for I don't know how long. But Peace seemed to settle over me and I realized that I must have been dreaming. It was a bad dream. A dream about my mom being in a car accident and dying. I sat and listened to the silence. Slowly the Peace drained from me as I realized that there was no sound coming from anywhere. I couldn't hear the sound of my family sleeping in the other rooms. I got up and started calling out for my mom. Frantically, I went from room to room opening doors and slamming them closed. "MOM?” "MOM?” "MOM!” "Where are you?" I found no one home as I knew I would way deep inside I knew the dream was not just a dream. But I ran around again from room to room opening up the door turning on every light in the house looking for my mom. Eventually, confused I found myself sitting in the living room in that big overstuffed chair in front of the Christmas tree. My eyes drenched and stained with tears. Then something caught my eye. Something that brought reality crashing back into my world. I saw an empty white box under the tree. It was a defining moment...one I shall never forget. The box was empty. Empty because I gave the contents to my mom that morning to put on her hands so that they would not be cold. The gloves she wore as her car went out of control.....as my life spun out of control.....that could be the only reason the box lay empty. My dream had not been a dream after all. My nightmare was my life......and I gave out a long agonizing cry......a cry that came from my beginning and went to my end. It made my body shudder with its cold stark announcement of hopelessness. Hopelessness. Nothing would ever be the same again. Loneliness. Aloneness. Separation. Isolation. I would come to know them as close friends. Friends that drain life out of me as I walk aimlessly. Friends fathered by Self Destruction. I now walk hard and long with Self Destruction.



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CINDERRELIC 10/29/2011 2:02PM

    I am so sorry for your loss. I have walked that road with the loss of my husband and may soon walk it again when my mom who is in her 90s and not well passes. I will truly be alone then and I feel and share the feelings I recognize in your writing.
Sending compassion and support.

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