Mama's Funeral

I think the final straw was at my mothers funeral. I was 12 going on 13. Up to this point I had been molested, I lost my birth dad, I lost my step dad, I lost Roy(mom's 4th husband), the dog we had had ever since I could remember was hit by the school bus and the replacement puppy was run over in the driveway by a drunken friend of my mother's. And then my mother suffered from cancer, it was horrible seeing her in the hospital with tubes that seemed to come from everywhere. She was in a coma. The funeral was the worst. It was a pretty day in June with folks sitting on fold out chairs. I never saw so many flowers, I thought she must have been really loved, I didn't even know she knew so many people. The coffin was open and we had to walk past and look at her. Why? I got so angry. These people were trying to say that this was my mother. This was not my mother, it may have looked something like her but it was not her. This was an empty shell with nothing inside. I felt so numb.

What I remember next is sitting in the front row next to Dale of all people. He was her husband at the time of her death. He had no love for me or my brother. I don't know exactly what triggered it but all of the sudden I was overcome I could feel it all coming up. I made the mistake of leaning to Dale for comfort. He jerked away and I cut it off, I stopped all the emotion right there. My doc says that was a turning point. I shut off from the pain, the world and from God. I blamed him for all if it.

Mom never showed any religious preference. We never went to church. I found out years later after I joined the Mormon church that she had also joined sometimes in the '70's when we lived on the naval base.