My favorite author is Stephen King. I have read every one of his books at least twice. My absolute favorite story he wrote is "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon." Briefly, it is about a little girl, whose parents are divorcing, which has caused major issues between her mother and older brother. One day her mother decided to take the children for a walk through the woods near the Appalachian Trail. While caught up in their own argument, her mother and brother do not notice that she stopped to go pee and got turned around and remained lost for many days. She got through with a walkman radio, listening to baseball games at night, and thinking about her hero, Tom Gordon.
Recently I have been doing a lot of self-reflection and think I know why I love this story so much. I believe metaphorically I relate to young Trisha in the story. To understand, I need to go back into my childhood.
I am the youngest of eight children, the oldest of which is 19 years older than I. My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer while I was very young. She spent most of my young years in the hospital. From what I understand she would come home for brief periods, but I have only a few memories of her. I only own one picture of her, a copy of my parents wedding portrait, and I have no pictures of she and I together. I remember a lot, though about the night she died and the few days that followed. She came home from the hospital and my father set her up in a small room off of the living room where we watched tv. I am sure the doctors knew it was time for her to go, and wanted her to be with us in her last days. It was a Sunday night, March 16th. I was watching Kojak with my brothers and it was just after 10. What a seven year old was doing up past 10 watching Kojak, who knows, but I didn't complain. My father went in to give her the nightly meds she needed, and came out and called to my sister Joanne. Shortly after, many people began coming in and out of our house. My older sisters showed up soon. Aunts and Uncles came. People kept hugging me and saying things like "She's in a better place" "She's no longer suffering" "She's with God now" Things a 7 year old could never understand. It was decided that I would go home with my Aunt for the night. She took good care of me. The next morning I woke up and put the clothes on that were packed for me. I remember her making a big deal that it was St. Patrick's Day and I needed something green. Nobody packed me anything green. She decided I needed to wear my cousin's shirt. It was green, however, he was a BOY and 3 years older than I, so I was wearing a too big, ugly BOYS shirt and I didn't understand why it mattered because my mother was dead, and it didn't seem important to wear green. To this day, I rarely wear green on St. Patrick's Day.
Either that day or the next we went to the funeral home. We only lived 2 blocks from there so we walked. I remember my father insisting that I go to see her in the coffin. I was confused and overwhelmed and didn't want to, but you were supposed to do what grown-ups said, so I looked. For some reason, it horrified me. I ran from the funeral home all the way home and all I remember is one of my brother-in-laws staying with me and we watched tv and played Yahtzee.
Her funeral was at St. Mary's of Royal Oak where we were members and all of us went to school. My family sat in the front row, and the entire school came. From my class all the way up through the high school. During the service I heard giggling, and when I turned around it was two friends from my class. How could they laugh? But, they were 7 like me, and I am sure they had no idea what was happening either.
My father remarried after a time. I don't think it was a long time. I believe I was 8 or 9. She was a nice lady. She took care of my brothers and sister and I (there were only 4 of us at home at that time). She cooked, kept an immaculate house, did our laundry, buffered between us and my father. But she was not very affectionate, she was distant. I am sure it was hard for her, marrying into family whose children had not long ago lost their mother. I spent a lot of time with my two oldest sisters. Weekends and summers. One had two children just a few years younger than I was and together we would all play board games, watch Fraggle Rock and Charlie's Angels and eat popcorn on Saturday nights, and again I was well taken care of and safe, but I wasn't their child. My father was busy working and making his marriage work with my stepmother, and I was just kinda in the way. I was the little girl lost. Nobody's child yet everybody's child at the same time.
One summer when I was 12 I was sent to North Carolina to spend a month with a friend of my stepmothers. I had never met her before. I was sent there by bus. I have no idea why. I don't remember if my dad and stepmother were traveling, did they just need a break. I really don't know. That summer while I was there I started my period. I was scared, confused, humiliated, and in a stranger's house. Again, she took good care of me and was very kind, but I wasn't her child, I was the little girl lost.
I consider myself very lucky, because I had such great older sisters and brothers. I knew they loved me. My father worked very hard to provide for us, and my stepmother made sure we were clean, fed, and well taken care of. I had more than most. What I didn't have but waned most was a mother. When I am so deep in sorrow, and feel completely lost in despair at my lowest moments I cry out for my mother. At those times I am once again the little girl lost, in the woods, scared, cold, alone and desperate for her mother's arms. I only recently realized how losing her at such a young age has impacted my whole life. Please, if you are reading this, call your mother and tell her you love her. Give her a hug. Forgive her shortcomings. Be thankful to have her in your life. I would give anything in the world to remember what my mother's face looks like or feel her arms around me. You see, I was like Trisha in "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon". While she was lost in the woods, scared and alone, I was just kind of lost. While others lives went on around me, I was just there, sometimes in the way, sometimes in the background, lost alone and scared. The Little Girl Lost.
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