I killed my parents! Part 1
This is what ran through my 12 year old mind every day. I was a bad girl and needed to be punished.
It was early in the morning, I was only 11. The month was November and the day was the first day of the rest of my pathetic life.
The night before my Dad and I had a typical fight.
Dad: Clean up this room!!!
Me: I don't want to clean my room.
Dad: This room better be clean when I get home.
My thought: I hate you, you just don't understand. I have sooooo much to do, I don't have the "time" to clean my room. My garbage pail kids need to be organized, calls to make, pants to tight roll. Whatever!
This will be replayed over and over in my mind everyday for much of my teen hood and adult life.
Back to the morning in November-
A knock on my door woke me up.
Dad: Time to get up and take your bath. I see you cleaned your room, it looks good.
Me: Thank you Daddy.
I don't stay mad long, I think I learned that from my parents. I rushed into the bathroom to take my bath. I was having to go to school early that day for a rehearsal. I was in a nutcracker school musical. Yay me! What the Hell was I thinking back then. It must have been mandatory.
I remember stepping out of the bathroom leaving the warmth behind. The house was very chilly that morning. If only I would have stayed in that bathroom I could have froze time. The light in the kitchen was on and as I turned the corner I could see Daddy. He was standing with his hands gripping the sides of the counter. I caught a whiff of coffee in the air. His shirt was unbutton and he had on those Jean shorts Mom could Never stand seeing him in.
Me: You Ok Dad?
Dad: I'm not feeling so well. I think I'm gonna sit for awhile. Go on and finish getting dressed. We don't want you being late.
I rushed to finish, there was something wrong. I swear I had a feeling. There was something wrong about his appearance, his voice, the way he walked.
I followed the coffee smell out to the living room and he was pale.
Dad: Go get your Momma Sheila.
Me: Yes Sir.
I ran down the hall as quick as I could. I screamed for my Mom to wake up. She was a very sick lady, we will go into this later. She died a year after Daddy, so waking her out of her slumber was not the easiest to do. Normally I would have been gentle to wake her, sweet even. Not today, I grabbed her from her sleep and yelled how there was something wrong with Daddy. She needed to get up Right now!!
God Bless her, now as a wife I can only imagine how scary that must have been. How terrified she must have been. What was she dreaming before I woke her and changed her life. No control, she had no control over her life being changed at that very moment.