Sunday, August 17

Need I say more...?

Although I had more than my fair share of childhood drama, there were only a few memories that really stuck with me... most of the others I have done very well to repress very deeply.

{begin: storytime}

When I was maybe 12 years old, I was swimming in the pool with my dad and brother. My brother didn't take to water quite as well as I did (unlike me he could walk before he could swim), but it seemed enjoyable none-the-less (as long as he didn't go underwater - that was end game). So, there we were enjoying a nice hot afternoon swim... when I hear my mother yelling from outside. She comes rushing into the greenhouse (where the pool was) and relays the bad news. She has just driven over her cat.... an 18+ year old, the most brilliant cat I have ever met, Venus. As he was as much a part of the family as any human to me, I immediately and semi-completely lost it: I screamed, I cried, I wailed... it hurt so much, I let it all out. The details she gave didn't help much either... as she graphically explained exactly how it's eyes and brain had literally popped out .... and asked my dad to come out an check on it (as if there was anything left to save). The more I cried, the more it began to insight my brother to do the same (even though at age 2ish, he probably didn't have too much of a clue as to exactly what was happening).

And, no, the death of a lifelong feline family member wasn't the most traumatic part of this glorious story... this is: So, now I am balling my eyes out, and so is my lil brother. Then my mother decides to yell at me... for upsetting my brother (like this whole thing is my fault). How am I supposed to not cry!?!

I am sure not I ever fully recovered from that situation... of all the great parenting adventures I experience thanks to mom, this one may have been a personal best (imho).

And what do you do when someone tells you not to cry? - of course, cry more, louder... my apparently, sometimes, eventually, personal favorite: hyperventilate.

I was just recently reminded of this tale, again... as she drove over yet another family pet with her car. And again, it doesn't bother me as much that Moira has passed (I am confident she is in a better place now), rather I am bothered by the response of the supposed adult in the situation.

"It was like she just ready to kill herself."

{/end: storytime}

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