Sammie and Roxie

I want to preface the following series of writings with an acknowledgement that the series deals with some of my experiences with death. In no way do I glorify one thing or another. I am simply attempting to put words on a screen to articulate moments that have shaped my life. Please understand that some of this content may be triggering, so I understand if people choose not to read the stories.

At various points during my hopefully coherent ramblings, I have referenced situations where life has come to an end. There is one very specific thing: there is a memory of when a being takes that first breath, and for many, when that being takes the final breath.

I previously spoke of Anthony in my writing about growing up in the shelter in Springfield, Missouri. For my young mind, at age five, that was my introduction to death. It was a pain that I did not comprehend; I could only articulate it, at best, as a physical response. I am not sure if there was much acknowledgment of the degree of impact those moments had on young children, even in the world of psychology at that time. My world was rocked again when I was in the fourth and fifth grades. Up to that point, I had seen death in aspects like old people passing away.

In the grades leading up to the end of the fourth grade year, I had been in school with two sisters, Sammie and Roxie Snyder. Though Sammie was older than Roxie, they were both in the same grade as me. Sammie was the taller of the two, with long, bright red hair. Her face and arms were dotted with freckles. Roxie was shorter and chunkier, with long blond hair that hung around her round face. Not only were we in the same class, but often, at lunch time, you would find me eating my packed lunch with them. We were some of the outcasts of the class. For myself, it was simply because my family was not from that immediate area and had no connection to it. I am not sure why Sammie and Roxie found themselves in that situation. Maybe it was simply because they were also poor, I don't know. We had sort of a sibling relationship in that I got along well with Sammie but to put it simply, I was a little shit to Roxie.

With vivid realness, I remember the summer afternoon. It was approaching dinner time. I had been doing my thing, running around the neighborhood and whatnot, when I ended up in the backyard of the house. I saw our landlord, next door, outside, and so I ran over to see what he was doing. Gary was not a friendly guy, but I tended to overlook those sorts of things a lot of the time. He was standing near the swing set that he and his wife had set up for their infant daughter. 'Whacha up to?' I asked. He looked up at me and said he was working on the lawnmower. He looked at me and then asked, 'Hey, do you know Sammie Snyder?' 'Yeah,' I responded. 'I am friends with Sammie and her sister, Roxie. We are in the same class.' ' Did you hear about Sammie dying?' I was shook. I could feel the blood drain from my face, and that sudden knot that formed in my gut as I stood there, shellshocked. 'They said she shot herself in the stomach with a shotgun. Said her dad got her pregnant.' A pain shot through me as if I had slammed my finger in a door. With a shriek of pain, I turned around and ran back to the house. I attempted to explain to my mom what I had just been told. But I just could not hold back the tears. I never saw Roxie again. By the time the next school year had come around, both she and her family had disappeared. But I have never forgotten about her and her sister, Sammie...