I Still Can't Believe She's GoneFrom the time I was born up until the time I was about 9 1/2 I had spent most of my life with my mother. She was my best friend and a wonderful parent. I never wanted to leave her side when I was little, and spent as much time with her as possible. I wouldn't even want to play with friends sometimes because I would have rather stayed home with mom. I always imagined the future with my mother when I was litttle, and what I wanted it to be like. I imagined that my mom and I would always live together and be best friends. The thought of her even eventually leaving from old age never really crossed my mind, as my young self was convinced that if God saw how much I loved my mother he wouldn't take her into heaven until I was ready to die, too.
However, right before I turned 10, I was informed my mother would be staying somewhere else, a "hospital" was what they called it. They said I couldn't go with her. I would have to live with my dad and step family full time. I didn't understand and became very sad. I didn't know it at the time, but my mother had depression. She was apparently trying to kill herself and me (so she wouldn't leave me behind), and was put in place where she would be watched over until she wasn't suicidal and was reasonably better.
This went on for about 2 years. They briefly explained that she was sick in her mind, but they never told me she wanted to die. I was so confused. I thought that she was sick in the sense that she was physically ill and it was hurting her head. The visitations never seemed strange to me. I thought all the security in the building was to help keep the sick people safe.
I was convinced she was coming home to me again until November 8th, 2001. I had just got out of a day of 5th grade when I came into the car to see my uncle in there along with my dad. I thought that was unusual that another family member was there, but I thought not much of it. The ride home was silent. My dad dropped my uncle off at a friend of the family's, and when my uncle left he said he loved me and what a good kid I was. I thought he was just being kind.
My father and I went into the house. As I was putting my book bag on my bed, I was called back downstairs. My dad told me to sit on the couch next to him. I thought I was in trouble, so I got scared. However, I noticed my dad had tears in his eyes. He never cired in front of me. He told me "Jess, Loretta's gone".
She had killed herself.
Nothing has ever been the same since. I became so upset at her funeral that I fell on the floor and stopped breathing momentarily. I felt like I had died, too. She was everything to me. I look back at photos of her, or think of memories of her, and it almost doesn't seem real. Like it was too good to have happend.
I will always have wonderful memories of mom, but they will never be a good substitute for her in my life. I still can't believe she's gone.