My mother died a few years ago, December 4th 2005. At the time I was 12, and I had only talked to her a few times in my lifetime. You see, I'm not going to get deep into my past, but I'll summarize it. My mother was married to another man when she was dating my father. Her and her husband were split up, though. She had done drugs before, but nothing too heavily. After giving birth to me, her addiction spiraled. My father left with me, leaving Mom behind. A few years before her passing, my sister had called me. Told me about her life, that she was doing great, she had a boyfriend and she was pregnant, and that my brother, David was doing fine. We sent letters, exchanged photographs. For once I had been a part of my mothers family. I had learned that the letters I sent to my sister had been stolen by my mother, along with cell phones, a DVD player and stereo. My mom called me one day. I remember her voice being weak, but at the time I didn't think of it. She told me she was getting help and that she loved me, and she asked about my grades. I really believed she was getting better. I thought she'd clean up and we would finally meet. I never heard from her again. My sister called the following year and told me that our mother had died. Overdose, as you might have expected. She died alone outside of Denver in a hotel. Weighed 75 pounds.
Even thought this was nearly 3 years ago, it still feels like it happened yesterday.
I don't know much about my mother. The only things I do know is that she wanted to go into the olympics, and she loved figure skating. She was great at it. Her favorite color was green, and she loved animals. I'm not sure about anything else. I have a few pictures of her, but they're all from her in jail. Recently I have found my brother, David. We've been talking online for a while, and we're a lot alike. It was amazing to find him. I don't want to ask anything about mom, not knowing how he still feels about our mothers passing. I want to visit Denver, where I was born. I live in the Boston area right now, 3,000 miles from Denver.
I found this site, and I wanted to share to all of you my story. I'm not sure if anyone will read it, but it was helpful to just write everything down. I'm 15 now, honors student, and trying to stay out of trouble. From my mothers mistakes and fathers mistakes I have grown and have matured years beyond my age. I'm still very emotional, and many people still cannot comprehend what I'm going through inside. Luckily, I have friends and family beside me.
Shannon Petersen - May 6, 1966 - December 4, 2005.