Christmas Poem for Momma

 

It’s not all the times

when I hear children laughing,

watch families embracing

across a wintry park

or see lovers holding hands

in a busy cafe

that makes me miss you most.

It’s not all the times

when I hear a sad song,

your song

any song

that makes me miss you most.

It’s every time

that I want to

reach out and tell you

how much I love you

or simply that

you’re my angel

that’s when I miss you most.

©2015 Nikki DuBose

In honor of our late mother, Sandy Cargile.

We love and miss you mom.

Love,

Nikki and Anthony.

 

In Memory of Ryan

You know, we were kids. He was older, and hiding my Barbies was his thing. Just like most cousins, he liked to tease; it was his way of showing affection. Of course I cried a lot – I loved my dolls more than anything. But as I grew, I wanted to spend more time with him and his brothers, and less time with my dolls.

Then came the times he spent showing me how he could play the guitar, and I was impressed. This kid was good. Like radio good. I spent hours at his feet, cuddling my knees and bobbing my head, as he ripped away tunes, sweating over sheets of music. Of course the teasing always came back. At Halloween he locked me in a dark room and blasted loud tapes of spooky noises. I cried. He laughed.

I didn’t see Ryan for years, but I always thought about him. As life took us in different directions, he and his brothers were constantly in my heart. I struggled with my own issues – depression, eating disorders, addiction, the after-effects of abuse. I was trying to keep my head afloat in a dark ocean of confusion; I wanted to visit my family, but I felt detached from the world. I could no longer identify with the little girl who once played freely and enjoyed life for what it had to offer. I was simply someone else…an identity I had created to cope with life. Often, I contemplated destroying that identity altogether. I wanted to die.

Then came the day – it started out like every other day. Except on this day, I learned that Ryan was gone. He had taken his own life. The memories we shared, were all I had to hold onto. We could never create new ones.

I wish he could have known that, whatever pain he was going through were only temporary. I wish he could have known that he could have reached out…to anyone. I wish that as kids, I could have told him anything, just one thing, that could have made a difference. But I can’t go back and change that. I can, however, help someone else, in honor of him.

I changed my life in honor of my mother, who died in 2012. More importantly, I did it for myself. We can all do it, in memory of someone we love, in honor of ourselves.

If you or someone you love needs to talk, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1.800.273.8255, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

As well, you can visit their website to find out more about suicide prevention and ways you can help in your area.

God Bless,
Nikki

It Happened In August: Family, Addiction and Breaking the Curse

Three years ago today Momma died in a car accident while driving back home to Charleston fr23973_1313607114603_321567_nom Myrtle Beach, SC. Her body was infused with so much alcohol, that she couldn’t see or steer properly and she lost control of the wheel. She was thrown through the windshield, over fifty feet in the air. Her friend was killed on impact. Within seconds, lives were changed forever, and as Momma lay dying in MUSC alone, no one in the family knew the horror that was taking place. However it was obvious; all the warnings were there. Years and years of signs pointed to the culmination of that tragic day.

I was only three years old when I had my first sampling of alcohol. As I stuck the red straw in my mouth and tasted the Long Island Iced Tea, I looked up at Momma and proclaimed, “More, more!” It was a joke to the family, a look-how-cute-she-is moment that no one thought twice about. Perhaps we should have. After all, Momma’s birth mom died from alcoholism. We never met her; she had to give Momma up at birth.

At thirteen, I was hitting the bars with Momma at my side, letting hormones and anger guide my way. Resentful at the abuse that had taken place for many years, I wanted to blow off steam, however I was careful to notice that Momma was quickly spiraling out of control with drinking. Frightened, I became turned off by alcohol.

By the time I reached twenty-one, I had gone through one divorce and several failed relationships. I was determined to be the one to leave, to always be in control. I was living on the other side of the country in California, wanting to be as far away from my family as possible. Momma was losing her battle to alcohol, although it was kept a secret for the most part. I became carried away in the party scene and played with the dangerous game of lets-see-how-many-drugs-I-can-take. Death was not scary to me, I just wanted to drink and take drugs.

In my mid-twenties, I was a successful model, and had tried to sober up many times. For a few years, I rode sobriety like a wild rollercoaster, never knowing when I would take the deep plunge and drop off the face of the earth again. When Momma finally passed away in 2012, I saw a reflection of myself in her casket. It was time to jump off the rollercoaster and choose life once and for all. I’m so thankful I got help and got sober before it was too late. Today I live my life in gratitude one day at a time.

If you or someone you love needs help, I recommend the following resources:

National Council on Alcoholism and Drug Dependence, Inc.1.800.622.2255

Alcoholics Anonymous

Adult Children of Alcoholics