They say every face in a crowd has a story to tell, this is my story..

The news shows and newspapers all called it 'Road Rage'. To me that sounded like a disease, an affliction that can make you kill. A sorry excuse to take the claw end of a hammer and slam it repeatedly into the skull of a human being. In April of 1999 my little brother passed away. Doesn't passed away sound so gentle, even normal? David's death was neither. It was murder. He was found lying in a strangers driveway in a pool of blood. He had been punched, stomped and beaten over his entire body. I still have so many questions. I wrote this book at first for therapy and then for answers. I have found a few. I mainly realized l lost a brother tragically and senselessly. Like every other face in the crowd I have a story..and I want to share my story with you! PUBLICATION DATE TO BE ANNOUNCED LATE SUMMER/EARLY FALL :)

Saturday, April 10, 2010

When was the first time you truly felt like a grown-up?

I woke up and felt like I couldn't breathe. My throat was so dry. I had to get up. I sat up and put my feet on the floor. I had trouble seeing. I could not tell if it was night or day; the air just looked and felt thick and foggy. I made my way down the hall and to the top of the stairs.I heard voices. I made it half way down and had to stop and rest. I sat on the step. I could hear the voices clearly now. It was the voices of my kid's and they were crying. They were trying to figure out what they could do to help me. My chest hurt; I was panicking. I ran back up the stairs and into the bathroom. I couldn't face them. I turned on the hot water and climbed into the shower. I wanted to feel something, anything but the sorrow that was consuming me. The hot water stung my skin. I leaned against the cold tile wall. My kids heart's were broken and I wanted someone to take care of me. I did not want to be in control, I wanted to lay in bed and have someone hold me. Someone like a husband or a Mom or a Dad. Not my kid's! I was overcome with guilt. I looked down and watched my tears bouncing into the water swirling around and then going down the drain. At that very moment I 'felt' like a grown-up and I needed to act like one. I realized I had been a grown-up my entire life. I was never a child. The oldest of 5 and a mother at 17. I just never thought about it. I needed to pull myself together. I needed to be a real grown-up and set an example for these kids. I was 41 and having trouble dealing with this tragedy. They were only 17, 19 and 23. I still had my parents and grandparents. I needed to show them that yes, bad things happen to good people but we have to live. I went back to work and back to school. I volunteered for a victim's service agency. Whenever I was around my kids I smiled. I did not want to I had too. I needed them to know it was okay to feel happy again. I saved all my crying for the shower.
11 years later times are different. I 'feel' like a grown-up when I'm holding on tight to my husband as we cruise down country roads on his motorcycle. It reminds me of a time when I was about 8 years old and road my bike down a hill with no hands. Yes, at one time I must have been a kid. I 'feel' like such a grown-up when I'm holding a little hand and jumping waves. When we are searching the beach for the best shells and staying on the beach when it rains. I 'feel' like a grown-up when I say yes to ice cream and cookies for dinner and M&M's in our cheerio's for breakfast. It's about watching cartoons until 2 am and cuddling on sofa cushions on the floor until we fall asleep.
Don't get me wrong I want my grand children to grow up happy, healthy and well adjusted but I 'feel' grown-up enough to pass that torch onto their parents. It is a torch they are quite capable of carrying.
I can honestly say I 'feel' so grown-up when I am spending well wasted time with the people I love and smiling because I want to not because I have too.


  1. It's weird but I associate all of the bad things [like stress, bills, responsibility (not the good kind) J.O.B.] with being a grown up. You spend your teens trying desperately to be a grown-up and adulthood desperately clinging to your childhood. At times it is insanity.

  2. Oh it is insanity..I still have all those darn pesky bills and a job I hate (except the writing one) it is just that my brother's murder was such a wake-up call..I was always way too I just want to make memories with my loved grand kids are growing up faster than my own kids did and I want to make sure they have a good childhood because mine was so crappy!

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  4. This is a sweet post; I appreciate your sharing this vulnerable point in your life. I'll have to give this subject some thought.

  5. You are an angel! Keep writing! :-)

  6. Thank you Kelly!I will never quit writing!