I've been thinking of writing an autobiography or memoir but it just never comes together for me but I figured if I write one story at a time and post it on my blog maybe once a month, I can do that. Maybe one day I'll pull all the stories together and put them in a book but for now I'll just share some stories with you about my childhood. Some of the stories will be happy, some sad and some horrific because that was my childhood. But they will all be real, things that actually happened. If it seems like something that people enjoy reading maybe I'll keep it going. These stories will not be in any kind of order, I'll just write them as they come to me.
Trigger Warning: The following story contains a true story of gun violence and suicide. If this is something that will bother you, please do not read this.
How My Mom Almost Killed Me
If you read last month's story you know that Larry committed suicide with my mom's gun when I was 13 years old. Once we were finished at the police station and headed back home, my brother and I were told to stay downstairs. I didn't realize that they were upstairs cleaning the blood and brain matter from the floor and walls. My mom helped my grandpa clean everything up but he didn't know that while cleaning it all up, my mom put some brain matter and blood in a shop rag and sealed it in a ziplock bag and hid it away. I guess in her grief she was trying to keep a piece of him...literally.
A few months later my grandpa died from the lung cancer that had spread throughout his body. A few months after Larry died my mom went to the police station and was able to get the gun back. On the one year anniversary of Larry's death my mom got drunk and showed my brother and I what she had in the shop rag. I was 14 years old now and this shocked me. My mom's bedroom was right next to mine. That day she got drunk, locked herself in her room for a few hours and I was in my room in my bed reading. I heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot and another sound near my head and realized that my mom had fired the gun from her room. I looked behind me into the wall and saw a hole just a couple of inches above where my head had been. I knocked on my mom's door and she answered but wouldn't open the door and denied she fired the gun.
I called my grandma and told her what happened. She came right over and when she saw the bullet hole against the wall my bed was on and I told her the bullet almost hit me in the head, she called the police because she wanted them to take the gun away from my mom which they did. They didn't arrest her or anything but she never got the gun back. When my brother and I told our grandma about the shop rag and what was in it, my mom was mad but wouldn't give it to her mother. My mom kept it for years.
