{ Motherless Daughters } uniting those experiencing motherloss

Our Stories

Terri's Story

All throughout my childhood, my mother and father never got along. Being a pre-teenager, I didn't completely understand their arguments, but I know I hated it when they fought. It made me cry and feel awful, like I was somehow to blame for their fights.

Their fights were never physical, but they were verbally just as traumatizing. I could never understand why they didn't get along. They were high school sweet hearts and got married very young (my mom was 18 and my dad was 20), so I thought that meant they should love each other more.

Throughout this time, I relied on my grandmother as a stable adult figure. She lived next door, and loved me as much as any mother could. I still thank God every chance I get that He let my grandmother be such a huge part of my life.

When I was about 12, my mother worked at the local high school in the town I grew up in. She worked with special education children, by helping them with their homework and other aspects of their school life. Little did I know at the age of 12, at this time my mother had been fighting depression for many years, and had refused therapy, thinking medication would solve her problems. She lived a lie, for I had no idea how much pain she really experienced, and I probably still don't.

About a month before her death (I was 13), my mother decided to move out of our house because of problems with her marriage. She would come to our house every morning to make sure my older sister (she was 17) and I we had breakfast, took a shower, and got off to school safely. Somehow, my life continued this way for awhile. Then one morning my mother didn't show up to make sure we had breakfast. I remember becoming angry and thinking, "She deserted us to move away, and now she doesn't even care enough to come see us in the morning". I went to school as normal, and since I was now attending the very high school my mother was working at, I went to go see her to ask her what happened that morning. Her coworkers said she didn't come in that day, so I left and went to the rest of my classes that day thinking that she must not feel well or something. When I got home, I told my grandmother about all of this and she became upset, not knowing for sure what was going on.

When my dad got home from work that evening, my sister and I told him what had happened that day. He became extremely worried, since I know he still had so much love for her. We tried reaching her at her new home, but no luck. So we immediately jumped in the car to look at friends' houses and other places she might be. My dad and I drove around for a few hours, but we found no sign of her or the large truck she drove.

With lots of worry and anger, we went to sleep and night and went to school the next morning hoping she would be there. But, my mom was no where to be found. That night I felt sick. I knew something wasn't right. My mom had gotten angry before, but never had she been gone this long. My dad must have called the police, because later that night, around 8:00 PM or so, a police officer showed up at our door and told my dad something that made him very emotional and upset. My sister went to ask what was wrong and a few minutes later she turned to me and said, "Terri, mom killed herself". I will never forget those harsh words that came out of my sister's mouth. Those words stabbed me in the stomach and threw me down on the ground. "This can't be happening", I thought, "My mom is dead? I am going to go through the rest of my life without a mother?" It eventually sunk in, and my life was never the same.

That night, my dad looked at the rest of my mother's clothing that still hung in the closet at home that she never took with her to her new home (I think because she knew she would be coming back; she was always trying to prove her independence to my dad), and he grabbed them and completely broke down. "Her dresses are still here", he sobbed, "How am I going to do this?" I ran to my grandmother's house and she comforted me while I tried to understand what was happening. My sister eventually came over and I thought, "My dad is alone in the house". All I could think of at that moment were the guns my dad had for protection inside the locked cabinet. I thought he was going to kill himself, but, thank God, a few minutes later he too walked into my grandmother's house.

Eventually, I found out that my mother died by suffocating herself by the exhaust of her truck. I won't go into the details, but thankfully, it seemed painless. She did manage to write a couple suicide notes, but my sister and I were barely mentioned. This really bothered me for a very long time, but I realize now that I will never understand what kind of pain she experienced, or what thoughts she had, so I just have to accept it and hope that it was for the best.

Somehow, after all this, I got up one morning and remembered that my life is worth living. I continued at that same high school, graduated as a valedictorian, and am now successfully attending college. Because of this death early in my life, I now understand how important it is to see the positive effect situations can have on people. I now look at my mom's death not as something that happened to me, but something that happened for me. For example, before her death, I had almost no relationship with my father, but when she died, he immediately took responsibility and loved and supported my sister and I as best as he could. I am now very close with my father and thank God I know this wonderful person I am lucky enough to call my father.

Sadly, my grandmother passed away about a year ago, but I called upon my earlier experience with death to help me through it. I miss her, along with my mother, but I make it through each day and still love the things I always have.

It is experiences like these that have helped build my character, personality, and even help me mature. If this hadn't happened, I don't know who I would be now. I am just thankful that I am still alive and healthy.

Š Terri

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