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My Story
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Shirley Dianne Rollins (Tiny)
Murder victim, age 17
December 8, 1961 |
by Connie Saindon, MA, MFT,
I skipped Christmas this year (1997). Instead, I went to Maine where
most of my family is, on a special mission. My mission related to
the only other time that I remember "Christmas was skipped."
DEAD BLONDE IN GRAVEL PIT, the detective magazine reported. The
third child in a family of eight, nicknamed "Tiny," was
murdered December 8, 1961, at the age of 17. As is so true in many
families, the rule - (you just don't talk about it; it would be
too upsetting ) goes on for years. What really happened gets distorted
and unresolved grief is traded for avoidance, denial, family feuds
and repressed feelings. When each of my parents and siblings said
they would be willing to talk about what happened; my mission was
to put together our family's story, the story of "Tiny";
and how her death impacted us all. How have our lives changed, paths
taken, decisions made, as a result of this traumatic event?
It Never Ends! Through my work as a therapist, my research in trauma
and my own personal experience I have learned that it never ends.
The effect of trauma continues to play out in ones' life. When I
was first in private practice I had a serious case that I dealt
with with an intensity that I knew was driven by the murder of my
sister. That was 13 years after her death. This was also the first
time I experienced the emotional grief over her death. When she
died, I was in charge of the 'arrangements', of getting the 'things'
done. I learned from this that everyone has his or her own timetable
for grieving. My oldest brother agreed to help only if it were to
help others. This led him into pages of journaling and hours of
sobbing for the first time since she died.
It started out as a cool New England morning. Coats were a must
for this time of the year. My brother Bill remembers seeing her
walking her usual route to catch her ride to a city 40 miles away.
She'd told him earlier that she had a tooth ache, but was not staying
home as she was graduating from Beauty College that day. Dad passed
her on the road that morning. He can still see her smiling and waving
at him. He knows she'd still be alive, if he had only stopped and
given her a ride. Overwhelming guilt continues to plague him.
Instead of him giving her a ride, an acquaintance, someone she'd
met just a couple of times, offered her a ride that chilly morning
in Maine. She was so happy, as was her nature, but today was more
special because of the graduation. He needed to find a part for
his boat and there was time to look for it at the local dump. Some
say she laughed at him because his car wouldn't start. He stabbed
her and when she tried to get out of his car he hit her head with
a brick. She died 10 minutes away from the hospital. She was pretty;
she was shy, and she was so proud of being able to graduate. Her
studies were difficult and she'd worked so hard. Instead, her diploma
was buried with her as she lay in her favorite lavender dress that
she wore at my wedding just 6 days before.
Family Leftovers: Her life was not the only damage done. My entire
family got bludgeoned! The damage is so far reaching. Its tentacles
grab belief systems in the world and tear them apart. Here it is
33 years later and we are still working to heal and put pieces together
of what happened.
I found out that all these years when I remembered that we skipped
Christmas the year Tiny died, we didn't. Neighbors made sure there
was a tree and gifts for all. I have no memory of this. My parents
split up and divorced. One brother has had violent reactions to
seeing knives ever since. The day one sister was told by a teacher
that her sister was dead found a closet to weep alone. She still
hides her painful feelings from others. One sister "can't go
to funerals". Everyone has protected both my parents by "not
talking about it."
In addition to putting together the pieces of her death, we've been
putting together our memories of her life and how she still lives
on in all of us. The words that we use to describe her are: sweet,
good-natured, always with a smile, and wouldn't hurt anyone. My
two youngest siblings don't remember her at all. They were 10 and
11 when she was murdered. Tiny's death and life will be remembered
by my family and my children. I want you to know her. The damage
to families lasts forever . The goal of this author and her family
is to give a voice for the long term victims of trauma. Judith Herman
in her book on Trauma and Recovery calls such efforts, in the final
stage of recovery, a "Survivors' Mission".
At Christmas, I invited my family to participate in a healing ritual
and we are constructing a memory album of her life. Each family
member is invited to contribute to putting together at least one
page of old photos and memories of Tiny. The inscription reads;
"This album is dedicated in loving memory to our loving sister
and daughter who lives on in all of us."
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