Part Two: Into The Kaleidoscope

My perspective and foundation had totally been torn to jagged pieces. Then consciousness began to surface. Despite my confusion.

I found myself quite concerned when I became lucid again. Or more exactly when I returned to my mind and body. After learning that the only person whom I loved and trusted had left this earthly plane to continue their journey, and left me behind.

I could only imagine that through my careless act of stealing the car and abandoning her (my mother) I had indicated to her that I was capable of taking care of myself. Even if I were only 10 years old.

My act of demonstrating independence was enough proof that she could move on and not be concerned about my well being or my future.

Believe it or not even the strong bond of love that she and I possessed between us hadn’t weakened by her passing. In fact for myself there was a vastly significant increase in the love I held for her.

You may ask, but your mother has died how is it that you began feel more love for her? By the simple fact that now she was no longer in my presence. That I now became aware of all she had done for me through out the few years we had together.

I realized what an enormous asset she had been for me. Of course I was still in the first stage of the thing I choose to call “ the kaleidoscope.” I was in very deep denial.

This first stage consisted mostly of numbness, denial, shame, guilt, confusion, and anger. Tons of anger.

I hadnt dealt with this amount of anger before. Now not to say that I had not ever been angry, because I sure had. Yet not from a “bottom” of my soul type anger.

I was angry on such a level I had no idea what I was so angry about. It began to come out at weirdest times and situations. No one including myself understood why, when, or towards whom I was lashing out at.

So life on the dairy was completely intolerable. At least for me it was. I was having recurring nightmares in which I would see my mother reaching out to me from places like the playhouse acrossed the highway from the Midway tavern. Or reaching out of the station wagons window.

I would wake up screaming that she needs help, my mother that is. One night I came out of a nightmare where she had been calling me from down by the ponds where the boat was. As I came out of the nightmare I realized I was outside in my pajamas, no shoes or socks. I was running toward the dairymans house pleading for him to help my mother.

He tried to gently remind me that she was no longer here.

I digress here. I should have told you how it was when I was brought home to the motherless dairy. The first thing that went through my mind was “hey what’s going to happen to me now?”

Believe it or not, because I didn’t at the moment. I just figured I was going to end up wherever all of my “lost” dogs were.

I so did not want to go to my fathers house. There were some pretty specific reasons why. #1 was the fact that I didn’t really believe that my mother had actually died. Since I was not allowed at any point to view her remains, whether at the funeral house, the morgue, or at the cemetery. #2 I did not trust my father.

I was pretty much out of it at the funeral. The night before had been very upsetting because I awoke shortly after midnight and heard my mother pleading for help.

They found me crying down by the boat in my pajamas. I was told in no uncertain terms that “this” had to stop.

So there we were at the cemetary. Ed and I had just pulled up in his 57’ Cadillac. He had put me in one of my Sunday school suits. As everyone began exiting their cars Ed told me “ I’m sorry larry but you have to stay in the car. You can see just fine from here ok?”

I was anything but ok. I don’t know what they planned on burying, but it sure as hell was NOT my mother! Why else wouldn’t they let me see my dead ☠️ mother. Anywhere or anytime?

Of course because it was all a lie. A lie to punish me for taking my mothers car and leaving her behind. This was my penance. I deserved whatever I got. What I got in this part of the saga was not being able to see her and conclude for myself that she was indeed dead.

Which bolstered the idea I had that she wasn’t really dead. As the Pastor finished reading the eulogy and the men began to lower the casket I rushed from the car and jumped on the shiny casket grappling for the hardware that held It closed. Everyone was mortified. Nobody even tried to stop me at first

Of course I didn’t succeed in opening the casket. I was manhandled back to the Cadillac where I sat for along time after Ed parked it in the driveway next to the station wagon.

Life tried. It tried really hard to bring back some semblance of normality. As if anything could ever be normal again with my mother being gone, completely gone.

You see as a person around eight or nine had become used to only having one parent at a time I was accustomed to the idea of one parent.

Yet I was also accustomed to the fact that I would eventually be back with the other parent. Not any longer. I would probably be going back to that “other” parent. The one that I knew in my heart of hearts did not want me there.

My sister Sandra had come down from Portland for the funeral and to collect some of moms stuff. She had brought her boyfriend with her. He seemed to have genuine concern towards me.

The night after the worst nightmare of all he asked me to come outside with him and take a walk. As we walked around the house he explained to me that it wasn’t my fault my mother died. He proceeded to let me know what I hadn’t been told thus far.

He told me that my mother had been drinking profusely. And that she had a prescription. A prescription for sleeping pills. He also explained to me that my mothers death was an accident.

He told me that the night Ed picked her up at Kay’s bar, when they got home he gave her her pill because he knew she wouldn’t sleep with worry about me.

Apparently she had already taken one or two of her sleeping pills. At this point my mother had what’s known as a synergistic reaction to the combination of barbiturates and ethyl alchohol.

A synergistic reaction means that you could take one Seconal and drink two beers and your body could react as if youde taken 100 sleeping pills. Therefore you would stop breathing and probably die, like my mother had.

For a brief moment I assuaged my guilt by blaming Ed. If he hadn’t given her that extra pill…

So life was trying to right itself and I was doing everything to prevent that. I had gotten involved with some high schoolers.

I started drinking with them, I bought weed from them, I even got some pills from them once or twice. I had found out completely on my own that if I inhaled gasoline, or glue, even hairspray, that it would take away my awareness of my mother and the pain of losing her.

Ed had taken up with his ex. The ex he had that hated my mother because she took Ed away from her. I guess she and my mother had went at it a few times prior. I never knew about that.

Ed’s new/old girlfriend had a daughter a couple years older than I. It turned out that she and I liked each other just a little too much. After being caught in the others room after bedtime a few times it was decided that I was to go. Back to my fathers. Exactly what I was in fear of.

Next “My fathers house”

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