Ok so here's my story. With most little girls they are usually the typical "daddy's little girl" well in my case I was "grandpa's little girl". When my father left us I was a heart broken 6 year old that suddenly had to live with her mom, siblings and grandparents. My grandpa was a retired SSG that became a farmer. So growing up I was always in the garden with him or working on one of the vehicles we had. My grandpa was my grandpa, father figure and best friend all in one. Where he was there a few steps away I was. He taught me to change a tire, oil and brakes on several vehicles by the time I was 12 years old. He taught me how to grow and cook all my own foods as well. Soon after I turned 12 he found out that his cancer came back worse than it was before it went into remission. Needless to say I was a heartbroken little girl to be losing her best friend so young. He ended up passing away exactly 3 months to the day after my 13th birthday November 27th, 2002. Losing him was the worst pain imaginable but what hurt more was nothing getting the chance to say goodbye because my mother thought it would ruin the image I had of him yet everyone else to include my siblings got to say goodbye. I had planned everything out so that I could be with my grandpa to the point where I knew how long it would take the ambulance to get to my great grandma's house so that I couldn't be saved. I felt my chest where I could feel the strongest beat of my heart between my ribs and that was where I needed the knife to go to end the darkness and finally get the chance to see my best friend again. The day I had chosen that Dec to do it my great grandma was at some church meeting, my sister was at a friends house and I'm not sure where my little brother had gone but he wasn't supposed to be there at the time either.
Just as I had slightly broken the skin my brother walks in the house. I was so mad, scared, hurt and broken that I just dropped the knife and ran to my room. Not knowing if he had seen anything or was going to rat me out or what. I just hid for hours in my room. Our grandma never said anything and neither did he. Things for me eventually got tolerable but that need to see him and talk to him has never gone away. I found out years later that my brother had no idea what I had tried to do all he knew was that he had felt a pull that he needed to get back to our grandma's house. So in some way my mind got me to believe that it was my grandpa once again saving me.
#ENDTHESTIGMA patch for those that share.