02 Jun 09 “After my mother killed herself, I lived with my aunt for a year.”

An absolutely brilliant and heart-wrenching article. Brought to you by reddit.com.

After my mother killed herself, I lived with my aunt for a year. I got the bedroom of her one-bedroom apartment and she took the foldout couch/bed, though the mattress was only as thick and cushioned as a little girl’s thigh.

I was six and my nightmares began as soon as I put on my nightgown. They were vague and huge and plotless and never-ending, filled with all of people I’d ever met, all of the people at her funeral who couldn’t even look at me without crying like a baby. When an adult cries like a baby, you never see their face the same way.

Obviously sleep was hard, so I was awake mostly. When I couldn’t stand to be alone anymore I’d knock on the inside of the bedroom door and hope my aunt would ask me if I would come out to the couch with her for a sec. She usually did.

To read on, see the whole article at dosmasks. Forgive the ad for Dianetics in the upper-right-hand corner.