Guilty, Your Honor, I whisper.
Have you ever done something so horrible that you’d rather hide in a dark closet for the rest of your life than have someone find out you did it? Have you ever done something so bad that even remembering what you did makes you hyperventilate and shake?
Have. I have made too many mistakes in my life. I should have done better.
Sometimes I imagine myself standing before a judge in a long black robe, head bowed in shame. I cling tightly to a large bulky sack. The judge in the long black robe says, “Raise your head to answer me. Who are you?” I answer him quietly. “I am a mother, wife and teacher.” “Were you a good mother?” asks the judge. I notice that her eyes are looking impatiently at mine. “No, Your Honor,” I reply, shaking my head sadly. “I was not a good mother.”
The judge doesn’t say anything, so I continue.
“I did my best, but I made too many mistakes. I brought them here to show you. They’re all in this bag,” I explain, doing my best to push the bag closer to him so he can get a better look at it. The judge looks at my bag and mutters to himself, “Looks like this woman has a ton of bricks in here.” Then, he sighs and says, “Hmmmm-how do you declare yourself?” “Guilty, Your Honor,” he whispered. “Guilty.”
However, the reality is that I carried this huge bag of guilt from the moment the officer told me that my teenage daughter, Arlyn, took her own life. I found the biggest bag I could and opened it. Then, I threw bricks of guilt at him, one by one.
I put bricks in the sack for every memory I had of the times I had raised my voice at my children. I put more bricks on the occasions when I punished them for making childish mistakes.
If only I had been more patient, –
In the bag, I put bricks for every time I was too busy correcting papers, doing laundry or talking on the phone to give my children, the most precious people in my life, my full attention.
If only I had kept my priorities straight, –
In this sack I also added bricks for the memories of many times when I had not known how to listen to my children with my heart.
If only I had been wise, –
After Arlyn’s death, I walked around carrying my sack of guilt; it was a painful reminder that some of my actions may have contributed to the depression that led to her death. I didn’t pull the trigger that hot August day, but I felt like I did. For me, Arlyn’s suicide provided tangible evidence that she had failed in the most important mission of my life: being a mother. I deserved to have to spend the rest of my life dragging a heavy sack of bricks. This was almost a complete change from the attitude he had before Arlyn’s death. Before August 7, 1996, I had confidence in myself; I had achieved the goals I set for myself, so I thought I knew everything. If there had been a Miss Arrogance pageant, she would have won the crown.
But I fell to my knees when Arlyn died, and I would never be on my feet again. Any crown on my head was shattered. After Arlyn’s death, the world no longer made sense. I doubted everything I had learned, my beliefs and my values. Most of all, I saw myself as a huge failure in life. So here I was, trying to muddle through each day, clinging to this huge, heavy bag of guilt that I couldn’t and wouldn’t let go of.
Ughh! My sack of bricks was so heavy: The bricks that represented all the mistakes in my life were so heavy that I would need the help of a bulldozer to move it, at the very least. Most of the bricks in the bag had to do with Arlyn: sins of commission and sins of omission. Arlyn had killed herself and the guilt she felt was consuming me. Every day after I woke up, she would stand me at the foot of the huge ugly load and look at her. As much as I hated him, I felt connected to him. Sometimes she would reach out and stroke the bag up and down with one hand, never letting go of it with the other. He was mine.
Day after day, I just lay there, holding on to my brick-filled sack of guilt. Friends would walk by and shake their heads at me. “Put your guilt aside, Karyl. It’s not your fault!” they would say, often shaking their heads in disgust. “You are wasting your life,” others would say. “Arlyn wouldn’t want you carrying that sack around forever.” I disconnected them. What Arlyn wanted or didn’t want didn’t matter. She wasn’t here to talk.
Sometimes I would try to explain how much I needed to hold onto the guilt, but they would argue the loudest. So, I closed my ears and walked away. They couldn’t understand. So it was. Life went on for those around me, and I was alone. Except I had my bag of guilt to keep me company.
But then one day, for no particular reason, I reached into the sack and pulled out one of the bricks. It was dated July 5, 1996. It read: I went to Germany, so I wasn’t here to care for Arlyn for the last month of her life.
I’ve thought about it. If she had been here, would she have noticed that something was wrong with Arlyn? It is possible that she would have. At the same time, it is more likely that she would not have noticed anything.
Arlyn was a master of deception, it seemed; She had been hiding her pain for years. So what makes me believe that she would have suddenly changed herself and become transparent?
My tears started to fall then. I felt warm tears running down my cheeks. They were for Arlyn: Arlyn, my sweet girl who was trapped in her own dark world by something beyond her ability to comprehend.
It hurts a lot to remember. so so bad
But then the tears started to fall faster and they felt even hotter against my face. These tears were different; them for me
I too was trapped in my own dark and lonely world, carrying around this heavy load of guilt. I too was caught up in something too complex to understand.
Was it really worth the extra weight of the brick dated July 5, 1996, just because I went to Germany? Was I a terrible mom because I took a vacation I’d dreamed of for years?
In my heart, I knew that I hadn’t neglected Arlyn by going on vacation. In my heart, I knew I didn’t need that extra brick that added weight to the overloaded sack.
But could he bear to throw it away? Would the world collapse if I took it out of the sack? I thought for a while as I ran my hands over the brick. He felt rough and hard and cold. Yes, I needed it. No, I did not do it. Yes, I needed it. No, I did not do it. Yes, I needed it. No, I did not do it.
Finally, I placed the brick on the ground beside me and waited. I didn’t hear loud crashes of thunder; the earth beneath me did not shake. I looked at the sack I had been carrying. It really didn’t look any different. I tried to push it; he didn’t feel lighter, but he knew he was. I had lightened the load just a little. I took a step forward and felt a light breeze brush my cheek. A butterfly passed.
Quote of the day:
Guilt is the source of pain; It is the field, the avenging field, that follows us behind with whips and goads. ~ Nicholas Rowe