The beautiful blue skies of April 1, 1990 were such a
delight, as it was perfect moving weather.
I finished up my 5:30 am to 2 pm waitressing shift at Cinnamon’s Restaurant,
and headed to my Aunt Laura’s house to borrow the truck. I had collected many items, stored at her
house, to move into my third floor apartment in Greenfield that I would be
sharing with Heather and Aimee Jo. We
were all GCC students, and yearning for our own place to call home,
together. 62 Fort Square West was the
place I called home for almost 2 years.
Dressed in my waitressing black and whites, I was tickled
pink to finally have my own place, and no longer living with the secretary to
the principal of my high school. My
rent would be comparable, and the proximity to the college would be a much
closer distance than driving from Orange to Greenfield every day.
I drove into my Aunt’s
house, beaming about moving. As I walked
through the door, my Aunt’s face was solemn.
“I have something to tell you…” she said.
“Your mother is dead”.
Her words were not jumbled, nor did she cry, or tremble about her sister. She waited for my reaction.
I laughed, as I was too keen to be tricked. “Ha-ha! April Fools!” I joked with her, waiting for the crack of a
smile. “Wouldn’t that be funny…?” I still had not realized this situation was
real. My Aunt continued with the
information. “Tina, it is real…your
mother killed herself…she OD’ed….”
I didn’t cry. I didn’t
know how to react. There was a certain
sense of relief, as well as anger.
Estelle Barbara Emery Bunker Valiton Bailey was dead, finally. All of those times she tried to slit her
wrists or drink and drug herself to death was culminated with her finally succeeding
in taking her own life.
For many years, my mother was a coward in my mind. She had never fought hard enough, never loved
someone other than herself enough, nor did she ever put the well being of her
four children in the forefront of her heart and head. I was relieved that my mother would no longer
cause me hardship and heartbreak she had throughout my 19 years of life.
My hatred of my mother became more intense throughout my 20’s,
and I began the challenge of therapies- you name, I have tried it. In my late twenties, I finally did some
Reiki healing sessions with a homeopath, in which I released my abandonment
issues. It was important for me to resolve
those intense feelings prior to fulfilling my own want of becoming a mother.
Becoming a mother provided me the most enlightening perspective, and
has let me grow to have love for my mother again. As a mother, I cannot fathom ever giving up
my child/ren to another person to raise.
The bond I have with my children is unbreakable. I can forgive, because I now realize life was too much too bear for her. Through the intense love I have for my life,
more specifically, my family, I can forgive. I am grateful for the times she could not
accept responsibility for me, as others stepped to the challenge to provide me
with love and care I deserved. It is through love
that I can accept my mother’s mental illness.
It is through love, I can only hope that my mother found peace in her
afterlife, as she deserves it as much as anyone, regardless of the choices she made.
Today is another brilliant, blue skied day. I am filled with love, but not too keen on
jokes.