When I heard the sound of my mom’s voice yelling, I assumed it was time to wake up and get ready for school. I was half-way down the stairs and she barely blurted out the words, “Your Pop, (I started calling my dad Pop when I was 18 months old and yes, I could talk at that age), had a heart attack and I’m flying to Summersville.” Nothing registered until I saw two of my dad’s brothers standing in the family room. The next few minutes are a little blurry- I remember my mom looking for her shoes and before she had a chance to put them on, the phone rang. One of my uncles answered, (I later found out my dad’s boss had to make the call), and said, “It’s too late. He’s gone.” And then a scream. Followed by, “What am I going to do, he’s gone.” All I managed to force from my throat was, “Is she going to be ok?” Needless to say, I never received an answer.



The one piece of truth I didn’t realize at the time- I lost trust in a lot of people and more importantly, the chance to heal and share with my mother. The next several hours, family came and went, my mom’s brother and his wife stayed, which is when the worst possible words one can say to anyone, much less a 15 year old kid, were uttered-”It’s your responsibility to take care of your mom, now.”


I don’t have a degree in Psychology, but allow me to state for the record, those 10 words have been engraved in my brain since that night and have swayed my decision-making skills considerably. In the beat of a heart I went from a typical high school sophomore, to the care-taker of my mother. Let me say as well, I don’t blame her for anything. I chose my path. I did what I thought was right and my responsibility. We didn’t discuss any of this until 10+ years later. She never had a clue.



Through the years, when I finally opened up to my best friends in high school, I learned the truth behind questions I had regarding why they weren’t “there for me.” They were told by my aunt, that I wasn’t to be bothered. I honestly believe, in her own way, she was trying to protect me, but in reality, she made me feel like the loneliest kid in the world. I had little contact with anyone, except for one cousin and through talking with friends, I learned I was purposely kept at a distance from my mom. Even at the funeral-the Lincoln Town car miraculously filled up before I could get in. I had to ride to the cemetery, which thank goodness is across from the funeral home, with, you guessed it, the same aunt and uncle.


What many forget, or fail to fathom- after the food is gone and the people leave, the grieving are left with a puzzle of their lives scattered across the ground in a million bits with no idea how, or where, to find the corner pieces to start rebuilding. The lucky ones have a strong family and friend support system. I had neither. As an only child, I was truly on my own. I went back to school, was given a card from my high school counselor that said if I needed to talk, her door was open. That was it. Nothing more. I didn’t know up from down- why would I pour my heart out to someone I barely knew? How many kids would know it was ok to do so? Not many and certainly not me. So, there I was, high school kid by day, housewife by night. My mom in her own little world, me in reality.


I wanted to write a post describing some of what I have dealt with and why I am who I am today. I know I should have been in counseling, or therapy of some type. I have wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, “For the love of God, never turn your back on a kid who has lost a parent, or gone through anything traumatic.” I have friends who have lost parents, or siblings and I have never turned my back. I know the consequences and although they’re older, the process is still the same- grieve. It doesn’t matter how long it takes allow the grief process to work. I wasn’t given that. Do I place blame? On some people, yes. The choices I have made in my life have been my own, good and bad and I take full responsibility. But in the back of my mind I wonder, would my life have been different if I had been taken under someone’s wing, or allowed to speak what I felt? This is why I have made a promise- that one day, when my life is on track and I have the means to do so, I will do everything I can to assure others, from 1-100, don’t have to keep it all inside and pretend. Never pretend your life is ok when you know- it isn’t. Be there for one another.

12:01 A.M. October 12, 1988. I lost my protector. My security. A part of me. The man who never complained when his little girl asked him if she could fix his hair and put make-up on him. The dad who laughed and told stories of how I would pretend he was a horse, grabbing his hair with her tiny hands and leading him to the toilet to “drink.” The softball coach who spent endless hours teaching me how to not throw like a girl and perfecting my pitching arm. The person who taught me, as I have come to understand at the age of 36, that helping those in need isn’t a hobby, or just something to do- it’s my duty as a human. This is the greatest gift a dad could ever give to his little girl.


Pop’s obituary, with the last names of his sisters and my mom’s maiden name removed.

Publication: THE CHARLESTON DAILY MAIL
Published: Thursday, October 13, 1988
Page: Not Available
Byline: n/a

ERNEST RAY ”ERNIE” TURLEY, 47, of South Charleston, was dead on arrival Wednesday, Oct. 12, 1988, at Summersville Memorial Hospital after an apparent heart attack.

He was a construction supervisor for C&P Telephone Co., with 23 years of service. He was on the board of trustees and a member and treasurer of Alum Creek Volunteer Fire Department, where he was a former assistant chief. He was a member and past president of Alum Creek Lions Club. He received the Alum Creek Citizen of the Year Award and C&P’s Distinguished Service Award.

Surviving: wife, Lana Turley; daughter, Beth at home; sisters, Christina of St. Petersburg, Fla., Sandra and Sheryl, of South Charleston; brothers, Carless and Lynn, of South Charleston, Dale of Kerrville, Texas, David of Massachusetts Service will be 11 a.m. Saturday at Curry Funeral Home, Alum Creek, with Minister Richard Runyan officiating. Burial will be in Forks of Coal Memorial Park, Alum Creek.

Friends may call after 3 p.m. Friday at the funeral home.

*I’ll also note-his brother David was killed by a drunk driver while on his way to the funeral. He and a friend from work stopped on the side of the highway to rest, a car crossed the median, killing my uncle instantly.*

With Google cracking down on blogs with “non-quality content,” I’ve become a bit jaded with the blogging process. I think anyone who shares their stories, their lives, knowledge- is contributing. The sad fact- too many people believe they can be, or are, professional bloggers. My belief is- blog for yourself first, be true to who you are and you’ll gain readers. Don’t blog on the hopes of making money or becoming famous-this isn’t blogging, it’s called journalism.

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