"You must understand, your behavior is hurting your children."
I sat confused, expecting the psychiatrist to blame me
the trouble making teenager, the problem in the family
but he was directing his comments at my mother

Back at home in my room
I could feel my father as he walked in
and threw a piece of paper next to me on the bed
"Maybe it would be better for all of you if I were gone…"
written in my mother's hand
panic overwhelmed me
I turned to my father in horror
he was leaning against my doorway
with an accusing, but sarcastic look on his face
I flew upstairs from my bedroom to theirs
to find her lying very still in her bed

"Mom, Mom!"
I shook her shoulders insistently
groggily she awoke for a moment
"What is it?"
as my terror cleared
I noticed the mostly empty bottle of wine on the bedside table

She hadn't killed herself
she'd passed out
and there was Dad
again leaning against a bedroom doorway
a nasty smile on his face
and I realized
my father wanted me to believe she'd committed suicide

and that it was all my fault