"Mother's Been Killed", my mother, Daisy Satterwhite

Karen Houston

August 9, 1997 - A Saturday morning. My husband and I and our 5 teenagers were preparing to leave that evening on vacation. It was pouring down rain, but we were making preparations anyway, our destination as 1300 miles away, surely the rain would stop. I quit about 11 a.m. and laid down to sleep so I could drive through the night. My son sat by my bed playing a game on the computer. About 11:30 the phone rang. My son said, "It's CC (my sister). She says to come out to her house right now." Being sleepy, I told him to ask her what she wanted. He said, "I don't know, but she's crying and stuff." I got out of bed, and my son drove me the 3 miles to her house. I decided her baby had gotten hurt, and she needed someone to help her.

As we pulled up to her house, I saw the baby in the door waving at us, and a cop standing behind her. I immediately decided my sister's husband had been killed. We went into the house, the cop said nothing. I picked up the baby, and sat down by my sister. She was still just crying and bawling. She looked up at me and said "Mom's been killed in a wreck." Those words have changed my whole life.

Mother was only 53 years old. She had long wavy brown hair. She was bubbly, enthusiastic, loved living life. She fought breast cancer in 90 and 91, three tumors, a year of chemo, months of radiation, conquering the beast and then my dad leaves her for another, not as attractive, woman who had two breasts. She got through all this and was having a good time, travelling, visiting, making friends, going to all the kids' school activities, etc. She was always afraid, when she died, that no one would come. The church was standing room only, and there were more flowers than one could imagine. We had to have a closed casket. the strange thing is, when I close my eyes, I can see her in the casket in the dress we picked out, looking like herself.

Mom was only 16 years older than me. As I grew older, she was more a friend than a mom. I really miss her. I feel like an orphan. I know Mom would want me to go on with life, but sometimes it is very hard.

I miss you, Mom. I will miss you for the rest of my life

Karen Houston

anniversary date 08-09-97
date of post 09-15-97

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