Accepting Death

From the age of 5, when my Grandpa passed, (my moms father) until about 15, give or take, my mother had an addiction to prescription drugs. (ex: oxycontin) I remember many many years of torment from seeing her so wacked out. Talking about stuff that wasnt there and yelling/gettin angry over nothing logical. It progressed after the death, but hit its peak while i was in 3,4,5,6 grade. I remember days where id get off of school, wait and wait hours for my mom to pick me up, mind you, i was a fragile little being, easy tears. When shed finally arrive shed often be wacked out, and describing how she slept too long. some excuse. Now she pickd me up when my Dad had work, so a few times a week, shed be either speeding, or more often, falling asleep at the wheel, swervin, hittin the side of the road where when u hit it makes a loud noise to 'wake' a person, so id be just this crying wreck, gripping to my seat, i remember accepting death in that car many times with my mother, i remember how close we were, anything couldve happened, how we rolled the dice, and thankfully my mother n i came out alive. Thank God.