Helen Gibbs, me, and Susan Haire about a year before their deaths…

Part 2

You never imagine the mistakes you made during your life having such an impact on finding justice and peace after your death.

Mom was like most of us, she suffered from bouts of depression here and there. But Susan was a very passionate and intense person, and so were her “bouts”. When she met my sister’s father, Kimm, I was 10 years old. He wasn’t very kind and had problems with drugs. He learned quickly how to get a rise out of mom, and constantly put her into emotional situations where she would “react”. They were completely wrong for one another.

I remember them fighting. Nearly every evening there was yelling, and mom cried so, so much. She would usually end their passionate fighting by doing something completely insane, for attention of course. During one of their fights, mom decided to threaten to kill herself by jumping off of the balcony of our second story apartment. I remember watching her, and feeling so sorry for her. Surely she knew the worst that would happen is that the police would come, talk her down, and she’d wake in the morning with a broken ego and neighbors who thought she was crazy. The police did come, the neighbors did watch in awe, and we received an eviction notice within the next few days.

On Valentine’s Day of 1986, mom and Kim were fighting over one thing or another, and mom choked down a bottle of narcotic painkillers. Long story short, mom was institutionalized for awhile and I was raised by my maternal grandmother. Living with my grandmother those last few months of 4th grade offered me the most stability I had ever known. Healthy meals, homework help, a good school, and a bath before bed. I don’t remember being comfortable with that stability at first. I wasn’t used to having someone remind me to brush my teeth and wash my face before breakfast. I had known the chaos of my mother’s home for so long, it took almost the entire time I lived with my grandmother to get used to having someone around who paid attention and wanted what was best for me.

Mom was released from the hospital after a few months, and I immediately went home to her. She and Kimm were together again by the time I moved back in. Mom got pregnant with my sister around this same time.

When mom was about 6 months pregnant, we went to the beach for the day. We spent most of her days off of work at the beach. We were basking in the sun, laughing, and enjoying a picnic. Kimm was at work, and I enjoyed having her all to myself. I got up to go play in the water and as I was running, my eyes skimmed the beach looking for potential playmates. My eyes fixed on a family playing in the distance. There was a pregnant woman with a toddler stretched across their beach towels, and a man who looked like Kimm. I ran back to my mom and told her I thought I saw him. She stood up, poking her pregnant belly out while stretching to see. She agreed that he looked like Kimm.

“Go see, Steph. Go see if he’s here,” shes said so excitedly with a huge smile on her face.

I ran closer and as I approached, I realized the man was leaning in to kiss the pregnant woman. I got just close enough to see that it was Kimm and hurried back to mom to comfort her. I knew she must have seen. Her heart was broken before I even got back to our spot. She stood there, tears welling in her eyes, and a hand on her belly.

I spent the last years of her life comforting and loving her through that broken heart. Kimm had two pregnant girlfriends, Mom and this other woman, and a toddler with her. He chose his other family. I was saddened that mom was surpised when he did choose them, or that she even gave him the option of choosing her. That was the last we saw of him.

Mom gave birth to my sweet sister, Candace, a few days before my 11th birthday. I’m so grateful for Mom’s gift to me, in the form of a sister, before she left.

Candace wasn’t even 2 years old when mom passed. She doesn’t remember mom. She doesn’t know what mom’s laughter sounded like. She will never know how wonderful mom smelled, how comforting her hugs were, how delicious her brocolli casserole tasted, or how absolutely lovable she was. I’m sad for Candace sometimes, when I realize the only stories she knows of mom are the ones we have told her. But she’ll never have to miss mom the way I have. It was a blessing to have loved mom, but losing her the way I lost her is something I’m glad Candace will never know.

What bothers me the most about the years I was blessed with loving Susan, is that so few loved her back. It makes me sad to think about all of the people who walked into her life, and right back out. It’s no wonder she was so sad. A person shouldn’t go an entire lifetime needing love, and despite the generosity she gave through her love, never getting any back. I so often wished that she would be content with me and the enormous, endless adoration I had for her. But, everyone wants a partner in life, she felt so lonely for a companion. That kind of love is so important for the soul too. And I’m so sorry that she never was able to feel the closeness and connection of a loyal and loving partner. One who nurtured her as much as she nurtured others. I find some comfort in knowing that she knows how happy I am, and that maybe she lives a little bit of love through me.

Her suicide attempts played a huge role in the “innocent” finding of the jurors after his trial. More to come…