Coming Full Circle

I Write Her

My tender years were filled with daily harshness and critical evaluation. No wonder I grew up feeling less than someone. My mother was so very demeaning and cruel to me, making my alcoholic, absentee father resemble a saint. My life, like all others, had its own set of hurdles to overcome. I’ll be the first to admit – it was a daunting task.

In August 2012, she died in Asheville, NC at the age of 73. She was hit by a speeding truck as she was jogging home. Yes, she was jogging. The man who hit her only had one brake working on his vehicle; otherwise, I’m guessing he would have been able to stop in time. She was dead on impact but resuscitated. Still, she was brain-dead at the scene and would be until she finally expired four days later. Her heart was strong. Probably because she was a…

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