Blog 2

Coming up with a topic for this blog was seemingly hard for me. As I said in my last blog, my favorite thing about reading is making a connection to the author. I knew I had a story I could relate to the reading but questioned myself on whether or not I actually wanted to share. I decided that even though it is a touchy subject it would be the best fit for this reading.

After figuring out what had actually happened to the man’s son, the story kind of hit home. I began to understand his reminiscing attitude because I have been in a similar position myself.

It was December 2010. I had taken my son on a 4 hour trip to my mother’s house, it was the first time I had actually spent time with her in years. I left the house 3 days earlier than expected with a daunting disappointment of the person she had become. It teased my brain every other minute of the drive from PA to OH, although I am not sure why, I knew she was like that a long time ago.  I guess seeing the disaster my “step-dad” and her lives had become with my own eyes just took what I thought I knew and made it real.

They were clearly addicts of prescription pills, heroine, and alcohol. Apparently they were addicted to violence as well. From the time that they woke, til the time that they slept, those were the only things they worried about. I couldn’t grasp it. I felt as though they didn’t even realize we were there.

When I got home my mom called and I let her know I would never put myself in that environment again. She apologized and for once she actually sounded sincere. She explained how she knew she needed to change her life but that as long as she was with my step-dad it would never happen. When I think about it now, it is almost like she was asking for help; Looking for a way out. That would be the last time I talked to my mom as the person she was before.

Three days after I arrived home it was a Saturday. My phone started ringing before the sun was even awake. I tried to ignore it but it was clear that somebody wanted to talk. When I seen the missed call log I noticed that more than one family member had called and I became worried that maybe a family member had passed away. My thoughts went to my great-grandma being the age of 93. I never could have imagined what I was about to hear.

I answered my phone to the next call from my grandma. She was upset and crying. She told me that my mother was in police custody and that “she had really done it this time”. She informed me that my mother had stabbed my step-dad and that he had not made it.

I remember thinking to myself that this could not be real. This type of stuff happens in the movies or to others, not in MY real life. It didn’t hit me right away but now almost 7 years later I can say the author is right, it does feel like a loss. Being that it was family it was a double loss.

 I didn’t really need to grieve the way some of my family did because in my mind we had all lost my real mom a long time ago. We lost her to the addictions she had, which inevitably cost her everything important including her freedom to choose.