The past nine years on this day I have mourned the loss of Don. It was ten years ago today I found him dead and my whole world was changed. The trauma of that day haunts me still. I can picture the cop breaking the door down and me pushing him out of the way. I remember running up the stairs to find Don naked, dead, on his bed. My mother was unconscious on the bathroom floor downstairs. I thought she was dead. They ushered me outside with Angie. I didn’t know what was going on or what to do. For the next two years my life revolved around nightmares, taking way way way too many sleeping pills every night and running myself ragged for my mother. I did everything for that woman. Everything. Even before, when I was living at home with them, I did everything for that woman. It was never enough. It will never be enough. This is the first year I’m not sad he is dead. I am pretty numb about the whole thing, kind of like when I found out my uncle died. It is bringing up vivid, ugly memories of that day though. I can picture everything that happened. I remember having to explain to the cops what all the guns were doing there, out on the table, in the corner, in his room. The door was broken down. The dog was terrified. A few days later having to tell my mom that he was dead. She was so certain that he was in the hospital with her and that there had just been an accident. My uncle telling me I don’t know what it’s like to lose a father. Calling all of his friends and family and having to tell them over and over again the whole thing. It was a living nightmare.
I wonder what my mom is going through right now. If she remembers. If she wonders how I feel about it. Probably not. She probably blames me somehow. I hate that she will never love me like a mother should. I hate my past. I guess I’m not numb, just angry. I don’t know. I should have stayed off of Facebook today. That’s how I was reminded that today is the anniversary. Fuck today. Seriously. Fuck today.