T, Kathy’s oldest son who is nearly 21 now, is sharing the following paper he wrote for a class on April, 27 2010. With his approval, only a few small sensory details that were required to fulfill the assignment were edited.
A Nightmare That Never Goes Away
Between the exchange of information from my father to me and my mother to me, it was hard to figure out what side I was going to choose if a divorce happened. Only being fourteen years old didn’t help the matter any. From my father telling me my mother was a cheater to listening to conversations recorded of her admitting it, to my mother proving she was the one there for me, which I will never forget. Plus, saying that he has two kids with another woman as more proof. After all of this going on it came down to one devastating night or early morning, which was a little after midnight, on December 17, 2003.
One night just before we were all sent off to bed my mother and father were discussing the issue of my father having someone follow my mother around. My dad had that person videotape where she went and it proved that she went to see our neighbor at his apartment. A phrase that I will never forget that my mother said was, “so now the kids won’t like me,” but my father countered it with, “they still love you more than me.” The thing that my siblings did not know was the fact that I knew all about my father having someone follow my mother because I came across the video tape when some buddies and I were going to make one of our crazy skits for fun. My dad then explained to me what was going on and why he had someone follow my mom.
Besides all of that everything seemed calm. We were sent off to bed, but what should have hit me was the fact that my dad told us to say good night to mom. My father never told us to tell our mother good night. At the time I didn’t think much of it. So I told her night and that I loved her and got a kiss goodnight. There was nothing unusual about that night.
It was a cold winter night with my eight year old brother, one of my sisters, who was the older of the two at twelve, and me at fourteen. My other sister, who was ten, slept downstairs next to my parents’ room. My twelve year old sister slept in a bed by herself to the left of the room and my bed was on the right of the room where my little brother shared with me that night. The room that my little sister slept in was right next to my parents’ room. She slept on the opposite side of the room that connected the two rooms. She was a very hard sleeper and could sleep through just about anything.
As my two siblings and I were upstairs, we were talking about all sorts of things because we couldn’t sleep. I don’t quite remember what we were talking about but it was different things that got us laughing and giggling. While all of the nonsense talking was going on, I noticed a shadow on our carpeted ceiling that looked like a woman’s head lying down. I pointed it out and then shook the curtain violently to make the reflection disappear. Then out of nowhere we heard a few thuds that sounded like a hammer pounding on the wall. We all stopped talking and listened closely. All of a sudden the loud screeching of tires filled the room and when I looked out the window my father peeled out of the driveway.
I slowly walked to the top of the staircase and turned towards my brother and sister. I told them that they needed to stay there, but they were as stubborn as me and followed me down the carpeted stairs. As I got to the main floor door, I opened it and took a quick left and took a sharp left again, which led me into the family living room. As soon as I walked into the room I could smell gun powder and realized my 12 gauge shotgun was laying on the couch.. For some odd reason today I can go hunting with a shotgun and not get bothered by the smell of the shotgun. Even then, the shotgun smell will always remind me of my mother getting killed.
My parents’ room caught my eye that three of us were facing. The light was the only light on in the house, with the old wooden door just partially opened. Still not knowing how my little sister was not awake, with her room exactly to the right of our parents’ room and a vent in both rooms in the same place allowing noise from one room to the next to be heard loud and clear. As the three of us were walking towards my parents’ room we all knew something was wrong. When we got close the door we saw dark red blood all over the brown carpet and when we walked in the room the white sheets were all spotted with my mother’s blood, with our mom leaning against the wall and bed not moving or making any noise. Puddles of blood around her and her eyes were wide open looking at us speechless. We all started to scream at the top of our lungs not knowing what to do. My little sister finally woke up and came out to see what was going on. Then, she started to scream and freak out with the rest of us. We ran around franticly not knowing what to do.
My sister and I jetted to the house phone. She grabbed it first but I ripped it out of her hands and dialed 911. I told them that my father shot my mother and told the woman that my father was a 6’ tall black guy wearing his Kansas Jayhawks winter coat. While I was still on the phone with the 911 woman I went to my mom crying my eyes out and mumbling into the phone as tears were pouring down my face, “she’s dead, she’s dead!” As all of us were crying our eyes out, I walked slowly to my mother still on the phone with the 911 operator and I tried to close her eyes, but they opened right back up. Even though that happened I knew she was gone. I can only think the reason for them opening back up was the thought that my mother was still around us and wanted to see us one last time. It was extremely hard for me to go up to my mother and close her eyes, but at that moment I thought it would be the right thing to do. The reopening of her eyes gave me some hope, but I still was not fully satisfied with that because she never said a word.
There was a sudden loud knock at the front door and knew right away it was the cops because who else would be knocking at our door past midnight. We went to the door to move the carpet sample, which was always in front of the door for show, in front of the door that we rarely used and unlocked it for the police officers. They took us to their patrol car and had me grab everyone’s shoes and coats. We sat in the back of the patrol car and I remember all of us crying and me praying over and over, “Please let her be alive, please let her be alive!” After awhile on that cold, dark, and lonely night, they took us to the police station. We all went to the top of the building and waited for someone to come for us. While we were there I was sitting on a couch leaning up against a huge window. I covered my head with my hooded sweatshirt and didn’t say a word for hours. My siblings were chatting away, but I was the only one that really knew what just happened. My uncle from my mom’s side and my grandpa came forty miles from my mom’s home town. Before I left I had to go and talk to a police officer about all of our guns and if anyone may be in danger. I immediately listed off all the guns we owned and told the police officer that my neighbor, which was the one who had an affair with my mother, could be in danger since my dad knew about that situation. We were finally let go and my uncle drove us. There still was no relief because I did not know if my mother was alive or where my father was at. I just couldn’t say anything. All the thoughts of what just happened were replaying in my mind like a broken record. The best thing for me to do was hold my tongue.
It was a long silent ride, with my head in my grandpa’s lap the whole way there. When we finally arrived we went to my grandparents’ house. As we walked into the door my three aunts were there waiting for us giving all of us hugs. Tears were falling every which way like rain falling from the sky not knowing where it’s going to land. The next day my aunts, uncles and siblings were chatting and sitting in my grandparents’ living room trying to get our mind off of things. Finding out that our mom had passed and was pronounced dead on sight was devastating. She was shot three times with my 12 gauge shotgun, which had killed her instantly. Another factor that was in all of our minds was where our father was and was he going to try and come for us kids? But we got news that my father had also passed. He had taken cheaters way out and hung himself. One solo tear fell down my cheek, but after that tear anger had filled my aching heart. I was upset that I wasn’t the one to do it, but I was glad he was gone for good.
Having been fourteen at the time has changed me as a person over the years. Today I am twenty years old, with this incident happening just six years ago. Ever since then I have stayed strong for my siblings showing them that we can make it through this and we have been doing great. I became more of a parent or mentor to my siblings who all look up to me when in need. That experience brought my siblings and I closer together. I have taken up responsibilities that most people my age don’t have to worry about considering that they have parents to do that for them. From car insurance to health insurance, these things I have to pay for because I have no parents to help me out and soon my siblings will have to go through everything I am. With me already experiencing it though they can come to me for help. This happening to my family may be bad to most but to me it changed me into being the person I am today and I wouldn’t change it for nothing.
For every comment made this week (kindly leave at least your first name and location please), my family will make an additional monetary donation to our local women’s and children’s shelter in Kathy’s memory from her children. Please offer your prayers, thanks, support, and appreciation for T, J, P, and M. They really did put it all out there for this. Although they may not know it, sharing their perspectives is admirable and courageous, and it just might save a life. This is the second post in a six-part series about domestic violence. Click to view other posts in this series.
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