Repressed Memory

It was November 8th 1973. My daddy had gone off to do the night shift at British Layland and my aunt and nan had come to visit us. We had run out of sugar for the tea so mum sent me and my cousin Angela  to the outdoor (an offlicence that sold groceries too) just up the road. It was already dark but we didn't mind, we were like best friends as well as cousins.

When we got back there was  a police car outside my house and our neighbour Joan was outside ready to intercept us. We were taken into her house and sat in the living room. It was the first time I'd been in her living room although I'd spent lots of time in her garden playing with her son Timmy and I'd been in the kitchen for drinks and snacks, but never in the living room before. I held tightly on to the packet of sugar willing myself not to put my finger through it and make a mess. I was so nervous. I handn't a clue what was happening and nothing was said. Then we were told we could go home, I don't know how long we'd been there but Joan and her husband David had watched an episode of Crossroads and made a cup of tea. Angela and I didn't speak to each other, it was quite surreal.

Then, nothing! I've tried but I just can't remember what happened next. I don't remember leaving that living room or going home. I don't remember Angela going home, seeing my mum, going to bed, nothing, it's all a complete blank.

How can I remember so much detail after so long, and remember it as if I was still there? I can even remember how I felt all knotted up inside knowing something was wrong but not knowing what it was. Yet, I don't remember anything else at all after I left Joan's house to go home.

I guess that's what you call a repressed memory?

I won't keep you in the dark. What had happened was my lovely daddy had died on the way to work.