Mom’s Still in the Bathroom
Wow, We’re at Victoria’s wake around everyone we know, but nothing can stop Mom from sneaking off to go and do God knows what. You’d think that my sister dying from a heroin overdose would wake her up, but apparently she’s like every other slave to addiction. She thinks she’s invincible, not like the others. She only pops pills. A little vicodin never hurt anybody! That’s what they all say. Any day now, if she isn’t already, she’ll be on the cheap stuff. I’ll walk in the bathroom and i’ll find her with a needle in her.... no, I can’t go there. Not today. I can tell that a good deal of my family knows what she’s up to. The question is, do I really want to be the one to confront her? I’m scared of the state she’s in. Her daughter is dead. Why am I taking this so well?
I walk past my sister’s pine box to the bathroom and tentatively knock on the door. “Mom? It’s Ashley, what are you doing in there?” No answer. I try the doorknob, but it’s locked. “Mom?”
“What?” She yells. “What do you want?”
I let out a sigh of relief, not today, I think. “I just need to use the bathroom, can you hurry up?”
“Sure, just give me a few, I just got in here” She says.
“You’ve been in there for ten minutes mom” No answer.
I go back to my seat, irritated and slightly unsettled. I don’t know why I’m worried though. My mother has been like this for years. She’ll be fine. She always has.
My attention turns to the open casket. I wonder if i’m in shock or I am just that done with her. I gave Victoria my full support the last time she got sober. To my knowledge, she made it a year and a half before she relapsed. But once she was using regularly again, she got mean. Abusive even. They were only words, but they were the kind of words that won’t leave my head no matter how long she’s dead.
Wait, how long has it been? I really need to get mom out of there. I don’t want to embarrass her more than she’s already embarrassed herself. I go back to the bathroom and try to discreetly knock on the door.
“Mom, it’s Ashley again, I really need to go.” silence.
I knock a little louder. “Mom, seriously, get out.”
My grandmother notices the commotion and comes over to see what’s up.
“Richelle, it’s Bridget, you need to get out.” Still no response.
She called my grandfather over and he called the funeral director over, who unlocked the door.
What I saw next nearly stopped my heart. My mother was passed out on the floor. The next thing I heard was my grandmother's voice.
“Someone, call an ambulance! She has no pulse!”
I whipped out my phone and dialed 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, What’s your emergency?”
“It’s my mom, I think she overdosed. I just found her in the bathroom.”
“Okay, where are you right now?”
“Shepard’s Funeral Home in Kingston.”
“Okay I’m sending an ambulance out now. Is anyone else with her?”
“Yeah, my grandmother is. She’s doing CPR I think.”
“Okay, an ambulance will be there soon.”
“Okay, bye”
The ambulance came in less than five minutes, but it felt like five years. My grandparents rode with her in the ambulance. I went home with my dad. He thought it was best.
The car ride home was silent. I was trying to make sense of what had just happened. My mother obviously overdosed, but what was the substance? Did she attempt suicide? I had so many questions that would probably get no answers. Even if she did survive, she wouldn’t want to talk about it. She’s like that. Will she even survive? Why hasn’t my grandmother called me? What will I do without my mom? Sure, she was pretty absent anyway, but absent and dead are very different. My entire life will be turned upside down. Wow, I am so goddamn selfish. Just like Victoria said. My mother might be dead and I’m thinking about myself.
My thoughts were interrupted by my phone. It’s my grandmother.
“Is she okay?”
There is a long pause. “No Ashley. She was announced dead in the ambulance. They couldn’t bring her back.” My grandmother’s voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry Ashley.”
My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest. I choked out a short “Okay” before hanging up the phone.
Three days later, we’re at my mother’s wake. No one is in the bathroom, which I’m thankful for, and I found out a few things. My mother was addicted to heroin, but was clean long enough to lower her tolerance. She relapsed at the wake and miscalculated how much she needed to get high. I understand why she did it. My mother is an addict. No matter how long she goes without her poison, whenever faced with a difficult situation, she’ll always crave it, and quite frankly, I was always sure this addiction would kill her. I just never expected it to be so abrupt. But her and my sister’s death taught me a lesson. Reach out to people, because ultimately, if you don’t, it will result in very unhealthy behaviors, Including, but not limited to substance abuse. I’m happy it didn’t take me long to realize that and I wish I didn’t have to figure it out by losing two very important people in my life. This will take a long time to recover from, but I will make it, and come out a better person because of this. I will be the one to break the cycle.