If only I could remember you
My mother and two brothers were killed by a drunk driver December 9,1956, I was 3 yrs. old. I have no memories to hold onto, I do not remember their faces, their smiles or anything about them, yet I have mourned and missed them my whole life. Losing them has left a void in my heart that has never been filled, though there are those who tried. If you have memories of a loved one who has passed, hold onto them forever, it is a precious gift.
My mother was 30 years old and was buried with my 11 month old brother in her arms. My 8 year old brother is buried along side of them. It was a tragic loss to lose three in one day and the drunk driver lived on to, yet again, take one more life behind the wheel before he died of cancer many many years later.
Abandoned by my father by choice and sent to live with his sister, where I never understood why my father sent me away, as I had two brothers living that I never had the privilege of growing up with or really getting to know very well. It's not just the death that hurts, it is also what comes after. I really lost my whole family that day.
Drinking and driving doesn't only kill the ones we bury, sometimes it kills special places inside of us that we do not know how to express, especially as a child. I blamed myself, God, the drunk driver, the world practically.
When I turned 40, I said to myself, this is enough suffering, enough mourning, enough pain and put it somewhere deep inside me and went on with life. Yes, it rears it's head from time to time and I hate myself for allowing it to surface. I shove it down into a deep dark place, scold myself for allowing it to leak out, think of something else, I tell myself, busy myself with something else, pick up the phone and talk about anything but what I am running from.
When I am out in public and I hear a child crying and calling out for mom, my eyes well up with tears, as it's like an echo deep inside my soul.