My last memory of her was on the wet cement. There were three of us walking together that rainy, dreadful day- my mother, my cousin and I. I was not allowed to be with her in the ambulance or in the hospital. A police officer drove me to my grandmother's house. Everything happened so quickly. People piled out of their vehicles and gathered around us. A heavy set woman took me in her arms and held me as I stared at my cousin. I tried to pull away from her because I wanted to be with my cousin. All I ever wanted was to be with her during that time. (As if I could have done something to save her, I couldn't, yet somehow, I needed and wanted to be with her, but I couldn't.) It was not meant to be. To this day, I still don't know who that woman was who held me. I'm sure she's never forgotten, as the police officer who was at the scene has never forgotten. As I sit here thinking of the events, I still had hope my cousin would live...she was hit by a truck, I saw what I saw, how could I possibly still have hope she would survive? My mother came home from the hospital that day, I met her at the car, as she closed the car door I asked how my cousin was. "Honey, she died." I have no idea what went through my head. I'm 10 years old. What in the world is death, how do I process this. We handled it so non-chalantly. I don't even know if I cried that day. I don't remember when I cried. I had mini-break downs of staying in bed and crying, but I believe that was years down the road.
That day changed many lives forever. Our family is a very close knit family. No one was to take the blame for that day. We stuck together and those not with us were grateful it was not all three of us, her mother included. Life as we knew it changed and would continue to change as my grandmother, our matriarch, died 6 months later. The passing of my cousin killed my grandmother. I know it did. She was a devout Catholic, yet I believe she struggled with the death because how could God take a sweet innocent child's life so gruesomely, as he did. This is where I lost my faith in God and I knew I had lived through the most horrific event I could ever live through in my life, so what more did I have to lose. Following the accident, I remained out of school for one week. It was strange, life just went on. Life went on...how the hell does life go on after THAT??? We didn't talk about the accident. If you don't talk about it, it will go away. Silence, nothing, that was how we handled it. It was 1979, who talked about things like that and who went to psychologists back then..no one. We dealt with it, lived through it and continued onward and we remained sane.
It should have been me, not her. That's how I felt my whole entire life. Was I born with the "I'm inferior gene" or only survivor guilt. Not until I accepted her death and set her free was I able to accept my purpose. It took me 32 years. I now live my life knowing she is always spiritually with me.
May Peace and Joy always fill your soul.
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