CHRISSI-MY FRIEND (Written 7-14-09)1
I have a friend a lot like me.
That’s why we don’t see each other much.
Being alone is so comfortable and our dogs keep us company.2
We don’t go out, we isolate, yet when someone listens, we can’t shut up.
We both have addictions we are battling. We both are winning to the most extent.
We hate and love isolation, yet we both miss the love of companionship and friends.3
Our stories are horrifying; I’ve never met someone that can match mine. Hers’ is close.
We talked on the phone the other night. She knows some of my story, now I listened to hers.4
She found her father hanging from a rafter in the barn behind her house. His face was blue. She was only eight or nine years old, but she knew he was gone for good. 5
She ran up the hill, her mother was ill, so she called her grand-papa. Grand-papa became the man of the house. She relied on him and he was there for her as was her Grand-mama.6
Five months later he died too, followed by her Grand-ma soon after. All that was left was her mother and sisters, all shattered and torn to pieces.7
Her mother was not stable and my friend lost her childhood. She took care of her mother as her sisters did, but in the end, it would not matter.8
One night when she was around thirteen, she was going to the county fair. She needed this, for herself, some fun. Something came over her, a sixth sense, shall we say. 9
“Take me home, take me home!” The others looked at her in disbelief.10
“I mean it; I need to go home, NOW!”11
The way she said it dispersed any questions and the car turned around. They headed back to her mother’s house. There she found her. Practically drowned in carbon monoxide, her mother was serious. The car had been running for at least half an hour.12
She was unconscious as my friend broke the window with her elbow of the Chevy Cavalier. She pulled her mother out. She also was blue. When the ambulance arrived, they declared her dead. Then she took in a long gasp. 13
“My God, get her in the ambulance; we may just have a chance!” My friend jumped in too, next to her mother, the roles completely reversed. 14
Her story is deep within me, our pain is not rehearsed. We’re like Viet-Nam vets who faced the worst. But no worse than me or my friend. 15
Her mother still lives and my father is dead. Thank you, God for that.16
Our stories burn within us, trying to destroy us. I’m glad I have my friend.
Adding your comment:
