I never realized that word was spelled
s-u-b-p-o-e-n-a
until it arrived in the mail and was looking at me.
After I received my mother's life insurance money I called my maternal grandmother and begged her to let me give her some. I figured her house was falling apart and insisted on buying an appliance or repair or something! I can't forget how she refused by saying
"Emily dear, let's make a deal; I'll take care of myself and you take care of yourself."
What shame I felt when I finally found myself knee deep in sorting through her old things and scrubbing her blood stained floor with the tears pouring from my eyes. A scene that echoed that of my mother's not long before.
Just before I heard the news of my grandma's brutal rape and murder I had talked with her again on the phone.
I cried to her about how much I missed my mother and proclaimed my guilt in hopes of changing the past. Her last message to me was this:
"You just need to live your life happy-go-lucky. Just live. Just be happy"
The next day it accured to me that I had very little knowledge of my mother or her mother's youth. There were no stories I could recall and few pictures I could find.
So I wrote her my final letter requesting anything her memory could devulge. I included the happiest go lucky picture of myself I had.
I found that picture by her bedside splattered with red. She never had time to reply.
Now I am called to attend the sentencing of a killer. One who killed more than just some old lady alone in her house. More than just a mother of two dead children. He is the creator of nightmares and horror. He is the destroyer of my last link to the past, of knowledge, and of motherly love.
s-u-b-p-o-e-n-a
until it arrived in the mail and was looking at me.
After I received my mother's life insurance money I called my maternal grandmother and begged her to let me give her some. I figured her house was falling apart and insisted on buying an appliance or repair or something! I can't forget how she refused by saying
"Emily dear, let's make a deal; I'll take care of myself and you take care of yourself."
What shame I felt when I finally found myself knee deep in sorting through her old things and scrubbing her blood stained floor with the tears pouring from my eyes. A scene that echoed that of my mother's not long before.
Just before I heard the news of my grandma's brutal rape and murder I had talked with her again on the phone.
I cried to her about how much I missed my mother and proclaimed my guilt in hopes of changing the past. Her last message to me was this:
"You just need to live your life happy-go-lucky. Just live. Just be happy"
The next day it accured to me that I had very little knowledge of my mother or her mother's youth. There were no stories I could recall and few pictures I could find.
So I wrote her my final letter requesting anything her memory could devulge. I included the happiest go lucky picture of myself I had.
I found that picture by her bedside splattered with red. She never had time to reply.
Now I am called to attend the sentencing of a killer. One who killed more than just some old lady alone in her house. More than just a mother of two dead children. He is the creator of nightmares and horror. He is the destroyer of my last link to the past, of knowledge, and of motherly love.
8 comments:
i find it really compelling that you somehow turn pain into something beautiful.
good luck with this. truly. fingers crossed for you. big hugs!
My heart is with you, Emily.
Be strong Emily.
It's overwhelming what you have experienced in this lifetime already Emily. I feel sad and confused about it.
me too.
I love the matching sweaters.
Which, I realize, is a ridiculous response to this post, but then, is there an appropriate response to such tragedy anyway? I think loving the sweaters is as good as anything you can do, I guess. It sort of summarizes some of your happy-go-luckiness, come to think of it.
Thinking of you. So SORRY to hear of such tragedy in your life.
All I can say is that I love you Emily. May angels be with you always, love!
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