L to R: Aunt Liz & Mom

Susan passed away 19 years ago today.

She was some kind of beautiful. She was hilarious and fun loving. She was caring and nurturing. She was my heart. If you would have known her, you too would have adored her.

When she passed away, I was 12 years old. I wasn’t your typical 12 year old. I still played with dolls, I didn’t have many friends, and I was just shy of raising my baby sister by myself. My sister even called me “momma”. Mom worked so many hours to keep her head above water as a single parent. It had always been that way. So I didn’t get the same interaction with people in childhood that most kids do. Mom didn’t want people to know I was at home alone, so I wasn’t aloud to go outside and play unless she was home– which wasn’t very often. I braved Charleston hurricanes by myself, long nights listening for noises in the house, and eventually, raising my baby sister by myself. So I guess, looking back, I probably was a bit more of a momma’s girl than most 12 year old girls because mom (and my baby sister) was really all I knew. So when she left, it was really earth shattering.

When I look back, I remember my heart literally hurting after she died. For years. It hurt and I often had a hand on my heart because, even when I tried not to think about it, it really was a physical pain. Which is weird because broken hearts don’t really hurt, right? That’s what I thought too until, about a year ago, I heard about an ailment called “Broken Heart Syndrome“. It happens after a divorce, break-up, a death, or sometimes even just from homesickness. And it’s a recent discovery. Very interesting reading.

I think what breaks my heart the most about losing Susan, at this point, is that I now relate to where she was at in her life. I better understand why things were the way they were. I can relate to her more than ever. She died at this point in her life: The very point that I am in now. And I’m so, so sorry because I now know how young 32 is. I now know that she must have had so many hopes, and aspirations, and plans, and improvements she wanted to make in her life. She surely would have wanted to do and try and taste and experience so many more things. She must have thought about me and my sister in her last moments. She must have fought so hard for her life knowing that those two little girls needed her and were waiting for her to come home. And I’m positive in those last moments she thought she was going to make it and that, when she did, she was going to come back to us full forced: Embrace us, work less hours, spend more time talking, and hugging, and laughing, and sticking our toes in the sand. I know she wanted to come back and live, love, and have a second chance.

Knowing that she thought those things, in the midst of the fear, makes me love her so much more. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have my mother. I wonder what kind of person I might have been had we had that second chance. And what would she be like, having lived through that horrible night? Or what would she be like had she never had that night at all? What would life look like right now for all of us who’s lives changed completely on October 17th, 1988? 

I can’t forget about her. Maybe sometimes I feel that I remember the loss too much. As if I feel obligated to the loss because I don’t want her forgotten. As if she deserved to have someone left behind that mourns her. Sure, it was a tragic ending. There was no closure and the justice that wasn’t served was very, very sad and deserved its own mourning all by itself. But her life and how much she added to mine stands out so much more than her loss. She wouldn’t have wanted me to hurt over what happened that night, in memory of her. She would want me to celebrate having 12 fantastic and memorable years with her. I’ve told her story because I want her (and me) to have some closure and I don’t want the world to forget about her. But really, it’s ok not to feel sad anymore. And the release of that obligation that I’ve felt is so freeing.

She was the biggest influence on my life. I’ve been without her longer than I had her, but I love her more than I did, somehow.

Her friends and lovers have forgotten and moved on. But I’m still here. And I still remember what an amazing and beautiful human being she was. The world lost out 19 years ago, when she left. But I’m sure that she lives on through us. The dimples on Bella’s cheeks say Susan. Austin’s contagious laugh says Susan. The blue eyes that stare back at me in the mirror say Susan. The knobby knees on my little Noah say Susan. I see reminders of her life everywhere. 

We Love You, Jane Susan Haire. Always. And today I celebrate your life and the love you added to mine…

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