I have thought long and hard about writing this story.  Even after almost 7 years, it is still difficult at times trying to explain how I felt then and how I feel now!   I guess the time to start would be on August 24th, 1990.  I went to bed that night not knowing that the nightmares were soon  to begin. My son Charles woke me up just a little after midnight, saying he thought something was wrong with Tanya and he was scared she had taken some pills. I got up, went in the front room and there she was at the table writing a letter and a pile of pills sitting in front of her. I sat down, picked up the pills and put them back in the bottle and asked her how many she had taken so far. She said she wasn't sure, so I woke my husband and he called Tanya's psychologist and the hospital. Tanya was in no condition to talk as she had been drinking and was very upset.  Between us all, we got her to the hospital where they pumped her  stomach and admitted her for observation. Tanya did okay  the rest of the night and I was even able to talk to her about things after a few hours. We made plans  for what she needed to do when she got out. She had been on Prozac before but had gone off. She was going to start seeing the psychologist again and together we were going to work on her problems.
However, things did not go exactly as planned.  At 5:00 a.m. Sunday morning we got the message to return to the hospital. Tanya's heart had stopped. The pills she had taken was a heart pill called "Calan". The purpose of these pills were to slow down the heart rate and they were time-released. They all hit her system at one time and made her heart stop beating. From this point on it's still a bit blurry. I remember asking them to bring my other daughter to the hospital. I remember hearing the doctor in the next room giving orders and trying to get Tanya's heart going again. I remember somebody told me they had called for a helicopter to fly her to Wichita. I remember sitting on a couch holding Michelle in my arms and the helicopter attendants leaving without Tanya. It was too late. They had lost her. I remember going to her room to say goodbye and she was so cold. The next few days, I just survived. I don't know how to explain them. People stopped by, Michelle and Charles called friends to let them know.  Jim and I went to the funeral home to make arrangements, Michelle and I went to pick out a stone. So much to do and all you really want is to lay down and never wake up again! You tell yourself, this is all a dream. Mothers don't bury their daughters. It's supposed to be the other way around. I asked myself so many times..."What did I do wrong, I should have seen it coming." I survived. I'm not sure how,  but I survived. I spent  time in Tanya's room asking myself so many questions and smelling her clothes. I never thought this would be something that was done..but it is. I went back to work and tried  not to cry everytime someone spoke to me. I came home, ate and went to bed..I think I kept pretending nothing had happened. The doctors call that Denial. But when Tanya's birthday came up 3 weeks after she died, I thought I would never get through it. I did. Then,  Thanksgiving and Christmas. I couldn't understand why people wanted to still celebrate. I hated the holidays. I kept telling myself that I wouldn't cry anymore. Surely I had no more tears left, but they came from somewhere. My family did everything they could to help but all I could manage was to read every book I could get my hands on dealing with afterlife.  I didn't know where she was. I hadn't grown up with the church and didn't even know how to pray. But I tried.