Suicide Momma

By Marlene K. Yundt

“…be ready always to give an answer to every answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you…”
1 Peter 3:15 KJV

Cybil had been a woman of the streets – tough, rough and rebellious. She smelled filthy. Cybil knew how to handle anyone, anytime, anywhere. When a baby boy entered her womb and her life, she had someone to consider beside herself.

At a later date, I met Cybil at a drugstore counter flipping flapjacks and tossing together ice cream sodas and milkshakes. Her speech was foul. Her demeanor was crude. She did not give a “hoot” what anyone thought about it, either. That was their problem.

“Do you have buckwheat?” I shyly inquired, being the new kid on the block and on the counter stool.

“Buckwheat?!” Cybil bellowed. “Yeah, we have buckwheat n’ Little Rascals! You can find them on TV.” Cybil howled with the support of her captive audience.

I cringed and shrunk a little lower. I wanted to exit – permanently and go find buckwheats somewhere else. In fact, just plain old everyday pancakes looked very welcoming at that moment. Anything but buckwheats! The roar finally subsided and I order “just a pancake, please.” I ate in quiet repose.

Week by week I came back to the counter in spite of my now smaller, humbler self. I began to become acquainted with the “regulars” – the retirees and the working community who patronized this unique gathering place. Most soda fountains were now long gone.

As time passed, I decided to hang around after the crowds left and get to know this mouthy waitress who seemed so tough that nothing could penetrate her darkened soul. Occasionally, she would spend a moment and chat about this and that. I began to take this opportunity to get to know her on a personal level, sharing Christ when I had a moment or two of her attention. She would listen; but, pretended to be busy and have to move on in her work. One of the workers who came at break time attended my same church in this small metropolitan community – a suburb just outside the city; but, very much in the heart of the farmland.

Then one day, Cybil was absent and that was not like her. She opened at 6 am and worked hard until closing – just one of her two or three jobs in the community. Then, the tragic news spread throughout the counter gossip: Cybil’s one and only son – now a married man with a young son – had done the unthinkable. Cybil’s son had committed suicide with a rifle shot to his brain.

Days passed and Cybil returned. She talked and talked and talked about her son, her daughter-in-law and her little grandson. I realized then that we – the soda counter community – we were her family.

“I cannot understand why she is still talking about that suicide! Why can’t she just get over it and get on with her life. She has been talking about it for two weeks now!” One of the regulars – a guy from the working community – seemed thoroughly disgusted with Cybil’s constant babbling about her now dead son.

I was shocked and hurt in my spirit that anyone could be so callous.

“It’s only been two weeks. It was her only son. She will grieve over him a lifetime.” He shrugged and returned to work.

When the crowd dispersed, I would move around to the curved end of the counter – to the very end seat. Little by little Cybil would come down to where I sat; but, only if she and I were alone. When someone entered, she would go back into her work mode.

“Where is my son now?” Cybil searched my eyes.

“Is he is heaven?” she inquired.

“I want to be with my son. Where is he? Can you tell me?

“Cybil, I cannot honestly tell you where he is because I did not know your son. But, if he is in heaven, I can tell you how you can be assured of being there with him forever. Would you like to know how?”

My heart was throbbing and I was silently praying for God’s leading and right words.
“Yes, I would.” Cybil said as she looked at me as a trusting child would.

In that God-given moment with no customers in this ever-busy pharmacy, Cybil met the Savior. She still lives in this suburb of the city. Wherever she is now, Cybil serves Christ and the community. The Christian community feeds her God’s Word.

Marlene K. Yundt writes from Portland, Oregon. marlene.yundt@comcast.net