If I could rewind my life fifteen years would I change anything, maybe, but probably not. Back then I hated myself, hated my mom and wished that I could have done it all differently. But then how could I have really, and if I did would have it had changed anything in the end?
Now I know that things had to happen how it did, and that I made the choices I did because I had to.
You see the day that I met my fiancé over fifteen years ago, falling instantly in love with him, his uncle declared war with him, trying to create a competition between them for my affection, even though he had a girlfriend. So when I found the confidence to go over to the trailer they were moving into and spend what felt like hours with him, his uncle went over to my aunt’s trailer to inform her how bad Eric truly was for me, filling her head with horrible pictures of the type of person he was.
As a protective aunt, when my mom had returned from her trip with my dad in the truck, she told her that he was not a good person for me to be with and my mother decided to ground me from seeing him and talking to him.
Meanwhile, I still chose to be with him and occasionally I would call him or go to a party telling mom that he would not be there so that I could finally see him.
One day I started feeling sick to my stomach, and somehow I knew that something was going to happen to Eric but I did not know when or what. I was grounded from calling him and he had moved back with his mother so I could not see him. I used the fact that I was not allowed to call him as a crutch not to call him, but I was afraid of what I would hear when I did.
15 years ago today, I finally called him, and his step father answered the phone and asked me if I was sitting down. As soon as I heard his voice my stomach dropped and I found it hard to breath.
He told me that he was hit by a car, the entire left side of his face was crushed and he was on life support (he may have said that his entire side was crushed but I can only remember the face.) He told me that I should try to find a ride out to see him if I want to see him alive.
When my mom came home, I told her that I wanted to go to the hospital to see him, but she did not know how to get there, and did not know anyone who could drive me. She allowed me to call again so that I could get an update and I discovered that I had lost the love of my life.
I blamed myself, for not calling him and warning him, for not telling him that I felt something horrible was going to happen to him.
I blamed my mother, for keeping me away from him, for grounding me from seeing me, for grounding me from talking to him. I could not stand to look at myself or her without feeling hatred for letting him slip away from my life.
On the day of the viewing, it was raining hard, just as the rain was flooding within my heart and soul. I had cried so much the night before that the tears were running out. The only time I could cry was when my friend came up to me and hugged me.
I had to meet his mother, sister, brothers, and aunt at the funeral parlor instead of the way we should have met. Eric smiling as he introduced his little sister to me with pride and then talking his little heart out until he could find someone else to introduce me to.
I wanted to stay there as long as I could, I wanted to be with him as long as possible, and because my friend brought her cousins I had them asking me when we were leaving. A part of me wanted to crawl into the casket with him and never let him go, but the other part was dragged out the door so I could sit in the car full of complaining teenagers, my brother, and my mother.
When we got to the thruway, the Seneca Indians were burning tires in the embankment of the thruway as they fought the New York State government for the right to be free from taxation on gas and cigarettes. The flames that surrounded us, were always a symbol of the emotions that were burning within me threatening to destroy me.
The next day we returned to the funeral hall, and as I stood listening to them talk about how he was gone, I still hoped that he would jump up and say it was just a joke, and that he was not really in a box, with makeup caked on him to make him look as close to himself as possible so that they could have an open casket.
We followed the line of cars through the city of Jamestown, and through the huge cemetery, until we finally found his final resting place. His mother was distraught, unable to stand, and some men took her back to the car to sit until it was time to lower him into the ground.
I wanted to stay for the lunch after the funeral, but my mom made me go to my step sister’s house warming party and I was so upset.
I started going down a destructive path as I buried my negative emotions deep within myself. Years later, I found people that have inspired me to live a positive lifestyle and forgive myself, by facing my fears and my negative emotions so that I can love myself and my mom because it is not our fault that he is gone.
I also understand that if I called Eric sooner and told him that I was afraid something bad would happen I would have held him back from living his life to the fullest. So. This year I am free to celebrate his life instead of being sad and miserable.