beverly. my aunt.
I can't really remember the last time I saw you....
I have a vague memory of you in a red sweater...was it a Christmas sweater...was it the holidays...in the grocery store...i simply don't remember. It was uncomfortable, interactions with you have been uncomfortable since you had your car accident. He was always around...not far away editing what you were saying. As if you'd tell a secret! It seemed that we'd see you around the holidays every year...my mom would make you homemade candy and buy a small gift and do a drive by of your house to drop it off. the interactions were short...punctuated with crazy comments and awkward silence, and then we'd leave.
My mother struggled with how to love you....be a sister...support you...not let you starve to death...not give you drug money...how to protect you...from him, from them. We all tried to wrap our minds and hearts around the idea that you were still good inside. Your actions were not good...not pretty...not something we understood so we simply avoided you. we didn't answer the phone when you'd call...avoid you when we saw you in public...we'd do really anything we could to keep you at arms length.
We were afraid that you'd steal from us...that you or your children, in a drug induced desperation would rob our house while we were away. We hid the fact that we had money...stuff...cause we didn't want you to get any ideas. you made it very hard...
How do you love a drug addict with a mental capacity of a 10 year old? ...silence...
I have so many questions...
1. why did you start taking drugs? selling drugs?
2. who gave you your first hit?
3. was it him?
4. why did you throw away your life...your nursing career?
5. what happened to your will?
6. did you end your life...or did he?
7. did it hurt?
maybe you'd still be alive if we'd broken through that barrier of awkwardness. if we'd held you...kept him away from you...made sure you were safe. we will always live with that, the fact that we didn't really do enough. instead of you we now live with the shame of the way we treated you...our silence will haunt us...tease us...tell us we could have done more.
Beverly, you laughed...were well educated...traveled the world...i remember when you took my parents to Manhattan for the first time, you and my father laughed till you cried...you had it all! or so I thought.
...what seed from your past blossomed to reveal an addictive personality that longed to be medicated?
...what hidden thing drove you to such a reckless life? or was it simply pain?
you are peaceful now...lying under a big oak tree on the side of a hill where no one can get you ever again...and yet we still struggle with how to deal with you..the loss of you!
I have a vague memory of you in a red sweater...was it a Christmas sweater...was it the holidays...in the grocery store...i simply don't remember. It was uncomfortable, interactions with you have been uncomfortable since you had your car accident. He was always around...not far away editing what you were saying. As if you'd tell a secret! It seemed that we'd see you around the holidays every year...my mom would make you homemade candy and buy a small gift and do a drive by of your house to drop it off. the interactions were short...punctuated with crazy comments and awkward silence, and then we'd leave.
My mother struggled with how to love you....be a sister...support you...not let you starve to death...not give you drug money...how to protect you...from him, from them. We all tried to wrap our minds and hearts around the idea that you were still good inside. Your actions were not good...not pretty...not something we understood so we simply avoided you. we didn't answer the phone when you'd call...avoid you when we saw you in public...we'd do really anything we could to keep you at arms length.
We were afraid that you'd steal from us...that you or your children, in a drug induced desperation would rob our house while we were away. We hid the fact that we had money...stuff...cause we didn't want you to get any ideas. you made it very hard...
How do you love a drug addict with a mental capacity of a 10 year old? ...silence...
I have so many questions...
1. why did you start taking drugs? selling drugs?
2. who gave you your first hit?
3. was it him?
4. why did you throw away your life...your nursing career?
5. what happened to your will?
6. did you end your life...or did he?
7. did it hurt?
maybe you'd still be alive if we'd broken through that barrier of awkwardness. if we'd held you...kept him away from you...made sure you were safe. we will always live with that, the fact that we didn't really do enough. instead of you we now live with the shame of the way we treated you...our silence will haunt us...tease us...tell us we could have done more.
Beverly, you laughed...were well educated...traveled the world...i remember when you took my parents to Manhattan for the first time, you and my father laughed till you cried...you had it all! or so I thought.
...what seed from your past blossomed to reveal an addictive personality that longed to be medicated?
...what hidden thing drove you to such a reckless life? or was it simply pain?
you are peaceful now...lying under a big oak tree on the side of a hill where no one can get you ever again...and yet we still struggle with how to deal with you..the loss of you!
Comments
I am sorry about your loss. I have no other way to get in contact with you, and so this will be my last attempt to connect with you. Obviously I don't fit in your life, and that makes me sad. But I am really tired of trying. I hope you have a great life.
Love, Tracey
All my info is the same, so if you want to contact me, that is fine. I just can't allow my heart to keep hoping to hear from you.