10 July, the woman I had been taking care of for two years, was removed from my home, by the government. I was told that she had filed a claim of abuse against me. I was told nothing else, and I didn't ask any questions, because I figured I would just be told that, as the alleged perpetrator, I was not allowed to ask questions, until my investigative interview. The agency that supported this woman seemed to downsize the issue, saying that she would most likely only be out of my house for a week and that it wasn't a big deal. Kind of like these things happen all the time. It is true that this woman had done this before, with another person, and the other person was not charged with anything. I was confused and wondered what I was accused of doing. I couldn't imagine what or how this woman would have told someone, a stranger, about what occurred. We were family. She called me mom, at first because she couldn't remember my name, but it defined our relationship. We were always together. We did everything together. When she was swept away, out of my life, it was heartbreaking. I wondered how she was feeling, but I wasn't allowed to inquire.
For the next 5-6 days, the agency contacted me repeatedly for information that could have been garnered, with a little research. This is the agency that was providing support for her. This was the agency that put us together. They should have had the information they were asking me for, and not have continued to ask me so many questions about her care. I was grieving from having lost her from my home and not being able to visit with her or ask after her. Also, I was not receiving an income, for days she was not in my home.
15 July, the agency called to tell me that this woman had died. I got the call from the same person who had just 10 minutes before sent me a text asking for information and requesting me to sign something. The agency did not have the right contact information for the woman's family, so I offered to call her family. The agency wanted me to tell the family to contact the agency about the funeral arrangements. Now, I'm truly grieving, and I'm feeling angry that I didn't get any closure with this beautiful friend. In addition to calling family, I called all of her doctors and cancelled all her future appointments. I called the pharmacy to let them know, so that they would stop delivering her medicine. I called everyone I knew who had previously worked with her. I didn't receive any condolences or sympathy from anyone at the agency.
16 July, I fulfilled my volunteer obligation at the St. Louis Zoo. Before leaving, I turned in my friends volunteer badge and card, as she had volunteered with me at the Zoo. Later in the week, I received a plant delivery and a sympathy card, from the volunteer coordinators at the Zoo. To this date, I still have not received any form of condolence, sympathy, or recognition of my loss, from the agency or anyone who received payment from the state for assisting my friend.
The text messages continued through the remainder of the week. I felt as though I was being harassed and not allowed to process my grief. On 19 July, the texts stopped, after I sent a catty response to an absolutely unnecessary text asking if something was at my house. I got through the next week as best I could, despite being depressed and not wanting to do anything but sleep, watch TV, and play computer games. I desperately wanted to talk about it with someone, but I felt I was intruding on others lives, and I think, maybe, others didn't know what I needed. Perhaps, also, most folks were not aware how close I was to this woman.
26 July was the visitation and funeral. The family asked me to sit with them. I was deeply touched by that gesture. I was also encouraged to say something, but I wasn't sure what to say. I will now post what I would have read. These are a few paragraphs my mother wrote, back in 1982, just before her father passed away and my son was born:
GOD GAVE US TEARS
When God created man in His own image, He created a whole man – a physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional being. He gave man a physical body, to enable him to move about His world. With the equipment of a mind, man could think, understand, and plan for things God would have him do. With his spirit, man could have fellowship with the God who made him. Engulfing all of these aspects of being, man was given emotion – the ability to care for others, to have concern for his fellowman, to have a desire to make the world a better place in which to live, to love people and living things, the ability to laugh – and – the ability – to cry. All of this He gave “in His image,” that we might be like Him.
Thank God for including the tears! Tears of joy at the birth of a babe – of sorrow as that babe confronts the difficulties of life. Tears of joy at his graduation – of sorrow that he begins a life away from home. The tears of joy at his wedding overshadow the sadness of his leaving home for the last time.
How great is God, who gave us the ability to thus express our emotions! Just as Jesus wept over the City of Jerusalem, so we weep over distressing circumstances. As Peter wept upon denying Christ, so we weep over our wrongdoing. And, as Jesus wept at the burial place of a friend, so we weep over the death of a loved one, and God sees and understands, because He, too, has wept.
As a child known for unceasing tears, once they began to flow, I came to look upon my tears as a weakness. Yet, through them, I found a special release that I did not find elsewhere. It was not until the death of my husband that I came to know that God doesn’t mind the tears. As I let them flow freely, when I was alone with God, they were no longer a sign of weakness to me, but a release of loneliness that only God understood. As my tears flowed to God, His love and understanding flowed back to me. God gave me tears. In shedding them, I felt a newness of His love.
Marcella Simmons
Fall 1982
After the funeral, I drove for 7 hours, to my 45th high school reunion. While I did enjoy myself and seeing everyone, the depression and grief kept tugging at me to the point that I opted out of going to the party at the Elks lodge for those who graduated throughout the decade of the 1970s.
I returned home to continue doing nothing, filled with anxiety and continued grief, not really knowing what to do. 30 July, I fulfilled my volunteer commitment at the Visitor Relations booth at the Zoo. Afterward, I traveled to the Department of Mental Health, to fulfill my obligation to be interviewed in the investigation of the allegation of abuse against me by the woman whose death I am still grieving. The investigator either didn't know or pretended not to know anything about the accuser or me, including why we were together, how long we had been together, and where the woman is now. By the end of the interview, I was terrified, on many levels. At the beginning of the interview, I was told the specifics of the allegation, and I was dumbfounded. Again, I could not imagine any circumstances that would have prompted her to make such allegations, which were completely false. I then began to think that, perhaps, she was misunderstood and that she was not told what was going to happen; that she may have believed that I abandoned her, just as everyone else she had become close to at the agency had abandoned her. I wondered if she died because she felt that no one loved her and there was no reason to continue to live. I will never know, because I was not there to interpret her behaviors. In the end, she was surrounded by strangers, people who didn't know what behaviors to look for.
All that being said, I am grateful that she is no longer in pain, that she is able to stand proud and walk proud, that she is able to speak so that all can understand, that she is filled with joy, not sorrow. I am not dwelling on the negative. I write it here, to release it from my soul, so that I can move on with my life, such as it is.
And here's what it is: I have no income. I am at retirement age and not in a place where I want to find a full-time job. I am eligible to collect social security, but I have already made too much this year to qualify for benefits. Meanwhile, I have 16 months left on my lease, I cannot afford to pay the rent, and I don't have any prospects for roommates. I signed the lease in October 2018, intending to move us in on November 1. However, the agency was not prepared for us to move, and I was asked to compel the landlord to wait until December to start the lease. The landlord would only do that, if I signed a two-year lease. On top of that, we were not able to move, until January. I had to pay first month's rent and damage deposit, by 1 December. I took out extremely high interest loans to do this. As time went on, I took out more loans to try to pay off others, and generally got myself in a pickle. Ideally, I would like to find someone who is capable of either loaning me $20,000 or co-signing a low-interest loan with me, so that I can pay off the high interest loans and carry myself through a couple months, while I figure out what to do.
Frankly, I'm feeling really old and tired, and I just want someone to take care of me. Anybody remember back in the 1940s and 1950s, when a family member took in the old maid aunt and provided for her? I wish people did that today.
For those of you who have read this far, I am grateful. God bless you and keep you, always.
Love,
Teah
