A Bullet to the Brain
by Mary Jane Klein Hagofsky

Laurie, my child, why?
Did you have to die?
Was your life?
Full of laughter and mirth,
Until you found out about,
The circumstances of your birth?
Did it cause you so much strife?
That you wanted out?
Did you end your pain?
With a bullet to the brain?
When the cocaine
Would not suffice?
The Letters you wrote,
And all the notes,
Never gave me a clue,
Of the pain I was doing to you.
Causing you pain,
That you ended with a bullet to your the brain.
Abort, adopt, or keep,
The choices which gave me a restless sleep.
Abort or keep, I could not do.
It would not of been,
Fair to you.
And then,
I heard of a couple, who wanted a child,
Making my decision mild.
I thought that they had more to give,
You could grow and live.
I didn’t know,
It would hurt you so,
Causing you so much pain,
That you ended with a bullet to your brain.
When you contacted me,
I became guilt free.
I let your adoptive parents know,
Because I loved you so.
I only wanted to do,
What was best for you.
They were shocked,
That you found me through a P.O. Box.
Otherwise,
They would have kept the papers locked.
Sparing you the pain
That you ended with a bullet to your brain.
They were furious,
That you were curious
About me
And you other family.
In your letters you seemed joyous,
Not only to find your birth mother,
But a sister and a brother.
Did this cause your pain?
That you ended with a bullet to the brain?
You adoptive parents set up a detour
They believed you were not mature
For us to meet or talk on the phone
I told them I would wait,
And allow them to set the date.
So we were allowed
To write notes and letters
Which flowed
Between your mothers,
Sister and brother.
Did this cause you pain,
That you ended with a bullet to the brain?
I let you and your adoptive parents know
That our letters had to cease to flow.
I had led my spouse to believe
That you were his but died in birth,
Before we were wed.
He was angry to say the least
But understood the words I said.
And wanted us to retrieve
What we both lost.
Our letters could again flow.
You never let me know,
That this caused you pain
That you ended with a bullet to your brain.
Letters that you found tossed
From me
Conversations you over heard
About me
Sadden you tremendously.
Your adoptive parents I defended.
The letters were tossed
Mistakenly,
The conversations understood erroneously.
I had no idea that they never intended
For us to meet.
You adoptive mother seemed so sweet
Did this cause you pain
Which you ended by a bullet to the brain?
The cards, letters, notes and packages I sent,
Began to be answered by your adoptive mother,
They were only meant
For you and no other.
She said you did not have time,
To shop, or write at Christmas time.
Your schooling kept you busy,
And your job at the mall,
Kept you in frenzy.
It would be a horrible crime,
If you did not get them at all.
Did this cause you pain
Which you ended by a bullet to the brain?
I never told them of the letter you sent,
I thought what they said, they meant.
You suggested that I come down
To Boca Raton, your town.
That we could meet,
In secrecy,
And never let your adoptive parents know.
You didn’t like my answer.
I said that it would cause a cancer
In the relationship I had with them.
That I had lied to my spouse before
Almost causing our relationship to end.
I would lie no more.
I said it would not be long
They would let me know if anything was wrong.
Did this cause you pain
That you ended with a bullet to the brain?
Immediately you wrote back
Telling me what I lacked–
Common sense and brains to be exact.
That your adoptive parents hated me
If left up to them,
You, I would never see.
I didn’t believe you, I thought that
That we, your mothers were friends.
You were mad at me
And was just being dramatic.
I believed,
And that is why you never replied
To the presents and the notes
I wrote.
How was I to know your parents had lied?
Did this cause you pain,
That you ended with a bullet to your brain?
I thought that you were still mad at me
And that is why I never received an invitation
To your eighteenth celebration
Or your senior graduation.
It was very rough
On both of us
I wondered if you were mature enough.
Did my absence cause you pain?
That you ended with a bullet in your brain?
Two letters I sent were returned
Christmas presents again unanswered
I wondered why
Many months later I learned why
And now I want to die.
I trusted them you see,
I thought they would bring you to visit me.
My flowerbeds were planted with daisies
My house was spic and span,
I manicured my hands,
I wanted to impress
And not be thought of as less.
Now I have pain
That I want to end with a bullet to my brain.
Your death remains a mystery
I’ve order a copy of the autopsy
I think someone struggled with you.
When your father’s handgun went off
Whoever it was got lost.
Your thumb was on the trigger
A difficult way to put a piece of lead,
Inside your head.
How does the police figure,
Your camera came off your neck
When you fell down,
And hit the ground?
The cartridge shell remained in the gun.
What kept the cartridge from,
Its ejection?
Did another hand
Cover the opening span?
Was the investigation a little quick?
I am sick.
Now I have pain
That I want to end with a bullet to my brain.
Your mother first called your minister
But not your father
When she heard of your suicide.
How did she decide?
How could your mother,
Not know what medicines your doctors prescribed?
Now I have the pain
Which might end with a bullet to my brain.
I was faulted and berated,
You were right, I was hated.
Your shrinks were the best money could buy.
They said you would not try,
A second attempt to commit suicide.
This could have been stopped
If only the weapons were locked.
I am shocked.
My efforts to reconcile they spurned
I thought that they were consumed with grief,
Our moments together stolen forever by a thief.
When they were informed you had a gun
They looked for you everywhere under sun.
How could they stop?
Your mother went to work the next day.
I would have been much too dismayed.
Telling me about your death they delayed.
I thought that they were full of grief
And were unable to; was my belief.
I gave them the benefit of doubt
Until I found out.
The day after your funeral,
It seems so unreal,
So surreal.
One of your parents took the time,
To absolve them of any crime,
They filled out every line,
Of a second missing weapon report,
Now I have the pain
Which might end with a bullet to my brain.
Letters from your mother made me smile,
How was I to know they were full of guile?
They had promised to let me know if anything was wrong.
And all the while
You had some trouble as a juvenile.
In their word I placed by belief
And I am consumed with grief.
I was told — so long
My usefulness is finished.
I am no longer needed.
Your words I should have heeded.
Get lost.
Respect and courtesy
Never returned to me.
Perhaps, the letters were purposely tossed.
Now I have the pain,
Which might end with a bullet to my brain.
On your parents I relied,
I never thought they would of lied.
Solace from your friends denied.
I seek relief.
In my anger and my grief
I said I could make their lives miserable
A restraining order was made available.
No one wants to talk to me.
That is just so unbelievable.
I don’t know how
They expect me to believe them now
I don’t,
I won’t.
What did they expect?
After treating me with neglect?
Did they expect me to smile?
During this time of personal trial?
Now I have the pain
Which might end with a bullet to my brain.
Once I asked your mother
If anyone had asked her,
Who you looked like?
Her reply – No one had ever asked and we never said.
You wrote that only a few
Friends knew.
Were they ashamed or embarrassed so that
No one knew the facts?
That you were one of them,
But not of them?
You are now dead.
I am full of dread
Because I have pain
Which might possibly end
With a bullet to my brain.

2022 (c) Sheila Ganz