Families aren’t supposed to keep secrets, are they? At least that’s what I thought.
My name is Jason Tillman. At twenty-nine, I thought I had finally built the kind of quiet stability I’d always wanted. I have a great job developing software here in Pittsburgh, a beautiful three-bedroom house in a neighborhood we love, and my girlfriend, Jenna, to share it with. Life is good. Or, at least, it was.
If you want to understand this story, which I still have trouble understanding myself, I need to tell you a bit about my family.
I was born and raised in Baltimore. My mom, Janet Tillman, raised me and my older sister Kayla, who was six years older than me, as a single mother. My father, who I won’t dignify by giving out his name, left for parts unknown with a female co-worker when I was two.
To this day, I have no desire to make any contact with him, not that he’s ever tried.
Mom worked her ass off to provide for us kids, taking up multiple shifts as a nurse at the local clinic. We weren’t rich, but we had a good life and each other.
I still remember that day when I was 12 and everything began to fall apart.
May 22, I can never forget that date no matter how hard I try. There was nothing but silence as I stepped up onto the porch. Mom was rocking on the porch swing, her arms wrapped around her waist as she silently wept..
“Mom, what’s wrong?” I said, a feeling of dread settling in my chest.
“Sit down, Jason.” Any time Mom said that, something not so good was about to follow.
“It’s Kayla–she’s gone.”
What? Did I just really hear that? I had given Kayla a hug this morning before heading to the bus. How could she be gone? It just wouldn’t register in my brain.
It was just then that I noticed that Kayla’s car was gone. She was usually home when I got off of school, since her job at a local restaurant didn’t start until 6.
“What do you mean gone?” I asked as things started going into slow motion. Mom’s answer hit me with a feeling that I just can’t describe.
“She was in a car crash a couple of hours ago while she was going to her friend Allie’s house–she didn’t make it. ”
I thought that I was going to be physically ill, and almost fainted from the shock. Our neighbor Rich, who had come over after hearing what was going on, ran over to our house, put a steadying hand on me and helped me to a chair on the porch, and held a glass of water for Mom.
I was totally devastated. Kayla was not only my big sister, but one of my closest friends. She filled in when Mom had to work extra shifts, fixing meals, helping me with homework, and attending school functions when Mom couldn’t. Our family seemed to be cursed.
We held Kayla’s funeral a week later. I really don’t know how I kept from losing my mind, but someone had to keep their cool. Friends and family gathered to help give Kayla the send off she deserved. The only thing that was missing was our Dad, but I would have had him thrown out if he showed up.
With that, life attempted to return itself to normal, though it never really would be.
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