I have woken up every morning to the same thing for the past 7 years. A world without her.
January 15, 1996.
I woke up that morning, as usual at my mothers. Pulled on jeans and a tshirt. brushed my teeth, ate a small breakfast and bundled up for the cold winter. Typical day at school, normal torture from classmates. Got home and checked the machine. Message from father, crying “Somethings happen and Im coming to get you tomorrow. Ill tell you when we get to my house” never heard my father cry before. Assumed my nana died and went on with normal life, no reason really to get upset til I knew what was going on.
January 16,1996
The next day a fter school my father was waiting in my moms driveway, I had a bag already packed cause mom told me it would be a week I would be gone. Found it quite odd… never was I allowed to miss a week of school. We drove those two hours quite silently, me feeling the nervousness and pain in my father. As soon as we got to his house my entire step family was waiting for me… tyically they were off doing their business. Sorrow in their faces as well. I was taken to sitting rioom and my stepsister sat next to me (a great friend at that time) and my father paced the room and started crying. He starts going on about his friend Bill calling and was crying and he went over there and she was dead… Dorothy killed herself. I sat in shock. Dorothy, my friend from childhood, my shoulder to cry on when I needed it, had taken the keys to her grandfathers cabinet, Bill, and …. well I’m sure you know. I was in denial screaming , crying, not letting anyone near me. My stepsister was crying also, but she had only met her a few times and was talking as if she really knew her. The only time I had ever gotten away with hitting her was then. I laid quivering, knowing stuff that some others didnt know. She had been talking of it for years. Felt as no one loved her, was molested and daily tormented by her peers. We shared the same nightmares, the same marks from them. We had our private birthdays for each other.. just her and I, eating ice cream and talking of the new things of paranormal we had seen or read. Her smile echoed in my mind. I cried til I couldnt cry anymore.
Ended up going back home after a few days. Wardrobe consumed by more black than usual. Sullen faced and tired. Counseling sessions with a cheery hippie that wanted me to think about it and talk about it, and everytime I did I had to go home. More torment from peers when they heard… telling me I was a lousy friend and she killed herself cause of it. Many nights I sat alone in my mothers trailer, twirling a large knife in my hand, crying. Couldnt bring myself to it. Quaking nightmares, seeing her death every night. Dealing with the horrid nightmares we once shared, now alone. A slowly building eating disorder followed that. Nearly impossible to eat, nearly impossible to live. Grades declined. Drugs. Fights carried on at home. With every one of them it ended up with me curled on the bathroom floor, door locked and my mom banging on the door in fear that I was trying to end my life. I eventuallly moved out of my mothers and to my fathers a year and a half after Dorothy’s death. Automatically they wanted me in counseling as soon as I entered her old school system. Things went well for a while til everyone found out that I knew her. Lost friends rapidly, torture started again. Fights started with stepfamily and father. Religious choices became focus of my house. Fights constantly. Getting pushed back and forth from mothers to fathers/ And everytime January 15 came along I cried more than I ever did all year, and got yelled at for it by my father for not moving on. January 15 2001 my life almost ended also. A guy I had been with for nearly a year at that time dumped me on that date and told me that I was crazy and he hoped I died. The pain again arose. I saw it in my mind again. The image of her lying on her floor, a pool of blood, alone. No one was home for me. Father too busy moving girlfriend in that day. I laid on the cold wooden floor for hours, trying to keep my thoughts of death calm, trying to make it til my father came. 8 hours later he arrives, me having nails marks all over me and crying. I was almost admitted that day. He tried to make me feel better but his way of saying things was more of a lecture than anything else.
Things have gotten better since then, though I still miss her dearly. Every once in a while I visit her family, they look at me holding back tears. Few words are exchanged. Her mother usually hugs me hard and tells me she loves me, as she has for the past 12 years everytime she sees me. I wish I could erase what happened. Give her mother her daughter back, Her sisters their sister back, me my best friend back. And as it grows closer to that day, I sit and remember our fun times. Remembering the smile that could making the most miserable grin for just a second. Remembering the once glitter in her eyes. I will probably be working that day. Like I did last year. Just another day in life. Probably have more support than before from my mother after me telling her what I knew this past August. My mother held me so close when I told her, knowing I had her pain built up in me. Everyday I remember her epitaph :
She was the oldest, the youngest and the only child
Those who knew her well understand those who dont just shrug it off. And as the tears roll in I must part. I hope this helps everyone realize the value of a friendship. Cause I never knew til that day.