Part 24

I’m not going to substitute one bogeyman for another. Hazel is dead. I know who she was and I know what she did. Not what I felt or what I assume or what I think. I know what I experienced, witnessed, saw, and was exposed to.

Part “Not 24/7”.
Not all day. Not everyday. Not anymore.

There’s a bible scripture, Job 3:25, that reads:

25 For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me.
26 I was not in safety, neither had I rest, neither was I quiet; yet trouble came.

There were so many things that happened when we lived on Leavitt, between my Mother and Hazel. They had a very toxic and tumultuous relationship. I think- and I could be wrong about this- that a great deal of Hazel’s frustration was caused by the secret and the having to be secret of it. My Mother cared for her, and she cared about her. I saw that. I knew that. But my Mother was not comfortable or complete in the reality of her sexuality. It was less about any “closet” per se, I don’t think my Mom saw herself as a lesbian. I don’t think she ever considered spending her life as a lesbian. Their relationship was a secret. Especially to the people most important to my Mom. She presented and postured them as family. That was easy to do, due to the fact that she had children by Hazel’s uncle. She presented them/us as family to those of us in the house too. I won’t speak for anyone else, but I can say that I was none the wiser. Them being a couple never crossed my mind when I was a child. That would not have made sense to me then. Trying to make sense of it for the last 25+ years has been tough. Because I didn’t find out they were in a relationship until a couple of years after my Mom was killed.

When I look back, especially with the eyes and senses/experiences/exposures of my 30 and 40+ year old self, I can recognize, so clearly, the blaring and obviousness of their relationship.

Especially the fighting/dysfunction/drama.

That stuff was plainly a domestic relationship. I just didn’t see it then. I didn’t know to see it then. If I would have been aware of that part, maybe I would have disobeyed my Mom’s “keep everything that happens in this house in this house” order. Because I would have definitely objected to them being together like that. Aside from whatever issue I might have had with the being gay of it, I wanted my Mom to be with my dad, Rock. I’d always wanted that. Hazel being my cousin was a sell for me. I didn’t gel with her, but you can’t always pick family. Hazel being my other mom or stepmom though, uh no.

I gave no thought to anything like that anyway. I was naive. No gay-dar. No sixth sense for any of that.

I wasn’t afraid or fearful of them being together because I didn’t know they were together. But what I was fearful and afraid of is something bad happening as a result of the fights they had. I was afraid of Hazel using the gun that she pulled out on us in August of 1993, when my Mom put them out. Hazel had done all kinds of things. She’d vandalized vehicles at our house one night while there was a party there; She bent the windshield wipers and spray painted the headlights and taillights blue, on cars of my Mother’s guests. She’d threatened to kill my Mom. She had a couple friends attempt to intimidate my Mom.
There was a temporary restraining order granted after the August incident. Hazel stayed away for a little while. One of the reasons my Mom filed the TRO was because Hazel had been riding down our block on multiple occasions in an effort to scare my Mother. My Mother wasn’t scared of Hazel. At least she didn’t act like she was. She always wrote the things that Hazel did, off, as stuff to get attention. In the summer of 1993, Hazel had attempted suicide by taking some pills and drinking a large amount of gin. I don’t think she was really trying to kill herself. I think she did it for attention. My Mom was out and Hazel was at home, in their room, with the door closed. I didn’t know if she was in the room sleep or if at all. By the time my Mom arrived back home from an event, I was sleeping. I was awaken by my Mother forcing me up to answer a bunch of questions. She was panicking and frantic and screaming at me…

“How long has Nae been in there? What time was the last time she came out of the room?”

I didn’t know. I was trying to explain to her that I didn’t know. But she was going off and I was in trouble. I didn’t know what I had done. But she was mad and I could tell, hurt.

I’d been sleeping so I was unaware of the calls to 911 and the emergency services on the way. She forced me out of the bed and to answer the front door while she tended to Hazel. The paramedics and police arrived a few minutes after. While they were assessing Hazel, my Mom explained to me that when she walked in the room Hazel was sprawled on the floor, a bottle of pills and the liquor bottle next to her.

So many things went on in that house. Things that my Mother went to great lengths to conceal from the world. In the last year it had gotten really bad. Many people can tell you of the things that my Mom did say, alluding to issues. One afternoon, a few weeks before she was murdered, she stopped everyone from working at the church. We were in the fellowship hall preparing for an event when she interrupted a moment of silence by saying…

“Hey y’all, if anything happens to me, make sure that Corey takes care of his sister and brother. Make sure that he stays in school. Make sure they stay together.”

There are a few people that can attest to and verify that moment. It was- at that time- such a random and awkward thing. The ladies in the room quickly told her to stop talking like that.

I recall one person saying, “Michelle ain’t nothing going to happen to you. Your children will be okay, because you’re going to be here to make sure they’re okay”.

My Mother responded, “If something happens to me, please make sure that my babies are okay”.

Not too long before she was killed, my Mom had discussed with 2 different people, that she wanted to remove Hazel as a beneficiary from her life insurance policy. She had grown concern about Hazel’s escalating behavior. Her behavior and the last few incidents. My Mother spoke to one of her best friends, Drenna, not too long before she was killed. She voiced some of her concerns.

Her concerns had grown into her fears. Her fears were obvious. They became my fears.

“For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me.”

The thing that I most feared happening, did. I knew it would. Hazel said she would. She did.

I knew she would.

What I didn’t know, all this time, were some of the missing details and pieces; the accessories and accomplices that assisted her, the people that participated, and the people that protected her. People that I would have never imagined could do the things that I’m hearing/learning they did. Until now.
Because, as I knew they would, everyone’s talking now.

If I allowed the stuff I’m hearing now to have a seat anywhere near my focus and attention, this would never end. I’d never be free. I’d always be chasing something, someone, or a somewhere… to get to the bottom of it all.
I won’t do that.

Those people are not going to become any focus of mine. I have a feeling that life is about to have its way with them. I’ll still be writing.

This, nor they, though, will have residence inside of my head like it had. I got the peace necessary for me to relocate. I was stuck, 15-years-old, on Leavitt Street, unable to move forward, for all of this time. God has granted me the peace, clarity, and freedom I needed to go.

Hazel had real estate in my mind and my subconscious because of our connection. Not just that she was responsible for my Mother’s death, but that she is blood family to my blood family. She is blood family to an entire group of people that I once considered family.
She also held information that I wanted, about my Mom. Details that I wanted to know, insight. About the relationship that she had with my Mom. A relationship that my Mother kept secret from me, and so many others. My Mother raised us all like we were a family. One big family. She had a double life though. And as much as I believe that any and everyone is entitled to live their lives the way they choose to live their lives, the fact of the matter is that those decisions have consequences. My siblings and I paid dearly for the consequences of my Mother’s double life.
I wanted Hazel to talk to me about that life. That was one of the biggest reasons that I didn’t “do” what many people expected, assumed, or wanted me to do to her, in response to what she did. I wanted her to talk to me. I wanted her to do me that justice. She could not ever give me my Mother back, but she could have clarified and communicated things that might better assist me in comprehending some stuff I wanted/needed cleared up. In a sense, I protected Hazel. Although I’ve always been outspoken and transparent and diligent with our story, I also showed an incredible amount of grace/empathy/compassion as well. There was a level of understanding and patience because I took into consideration the facts that I knew and the nature of connection we had. So much hurt had been caused way back then. I tried to prevent more of the same. That was a task. But it was a psychological mindfvck, trying to understand how and why all of this happened. That was traumatic. The uglier trauma was the silence and seclusion that came with all of this.

Again, I wanted Hazel to fix “this”. I fantasized the possibility that a conversation with her could power-up and generate the energy that was needed to fix this.

Mind you, EVERYONE disappeared after my Mother’s death. That caused an entirely different thing to happen. A paranoia. A severe and extreme distrust. A ridiculous fear. I wanted Hazel to fix that. Because she had broken it. Her actions had caused it. Not just the actions the world knew about, my Mom’s murder, but the actions and behavior that we’d dealt with for 8 years, up until she’d done that. The actions and behavior that not all of the world had any clue of. Because my Mother mandated that “what happened in that house stayed in that house”.
Some people were curious or convinced that there was a problem back then. But they limited their concern to their own mind and instead of doing more, they did nothing. I’ve talked to so many people over the years that have expressed regret and remorse for their lack of initiating conversation with my Mom about some of the signs/feelings they wanted to talk about.

Hazel had a particular space with me because my Mother loved her. My Mother took care of Hazel. She cared and provided for Hazel, and Hazel’s children, for a long time. I watched my Mother care for and protect and defend and love and advocate for Hazel. Even when a lot of the mess was going on. Actually, especially when the mess was going on.

I’m rambling today.

This is grief. Grief is finally setting in. I’ve never grieved my Mom. I went from her son, straight to the only investigator/detective/journalist that was fighting for her.

I fought for my Mother for almost 30 years. Every second of every day of every year, for almost 30 years.
Because I spent all of that time “fighting”, I didn’t get a chance to “feel”.

It’s time for me to feel.

My next post will be about the lessons I’ve learned.

©️2024 Cornelious “See” Flowers