The air was cold and my lips were dry, so were my eyes despite the fact I could lose my mother at any time of the day.

I could feel nothing, but even so, I could feel the emptiness and nothingness completely. I would find myself staring at the corner of the room, my mind trying to distract itself from the inevitable outcome that will destroy me.

My mom always hated loud music, unless if they were Christian songs. She was very devoted and faithful to Christ despite everything she's been through. But, today, she didn't hate the loud music echoing around the hospital room blasting out of my phone.

I knew. I knew it was her way of saying goodbye. Once words cannot be said, actions are done. Mom, there are a lot of things I want to say to you and hear from you. Please, just for a little longer, hold me and fill me with your warmth.

I'm not ready. I don't think I'll ever be. Please, I can't lose you.

Then, she said she was tired and wanted to sleep, I turned off my phone and let helped her lay on her bed.

She couldn't sleep. It hurts, she said. Where? I ask. She gave me an inaudible answer, I couldn't hear her complaints well. I called for my dad for help since he's the one who has been taking care of her 24/7.

Dad helped mom sit on a chair and wore her oxygen mask. Dad told me he needed to secure everything since he's leaving to take care of the bills.

I sat on a chair and placed my writing materials on the table in front of me. Writing. It has always been a great escape from reality. It allows me to be who I want to be and do what I want to do. I have lived hundreds of lives and finished thousands of things. I went to France, to Jupiter, to alternative universes.

Mom, do you know why I write? Or do you pretend to not know in order to have a deep and long talk between a mother and a child? Do you only see me as your helpless daughter or as a capable woman, as well? I never got to ask you that. Although, it does hurt how you wished I never grew up. Have I become someone you didn't wish me to be? Mom, tell me, so I could change. Mom, could you please hug me and tell me everything is alright? That it wouldn't kill me.

I watched her shoulders rise and fall with each deep breath she took, as if she was suffocating — in desperation. I filled the page with the plot of the book I wanted to write to once again distract me from how painful your breathing look, it looks like you're fighting death, itself and I could do nothing but watch you succumb to it.

I watched her again, her shoulders slumped. I jumped out of my seat and ran, shaking her shoulders.

Limp body, half-closed eyes, no signs of breathing. I ran out and screamed for help. I cried as the nurses assured me that as long as there's no confirmation, she could still be alive.

My dad's tearful eyes and gentle voice said otherwise. I lost you that day and slowly, I lost my passion for writing bit by bit every day. It reminds me of you and how it killed you.

Did my negligence killed you, mom? Was I too focused on comforting myself? Was I too focused on forgetting the pain of losing you instead on focusing on you, instead? I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it.

I just...wanted to feel okay. I didn't want to be a burden to you and dad. Maybe...I am your helpless daughter, after all.

I wasn't able to say ‘Thank you’ for the last time. Even though this world had hurt and emptied me, I am forever thankful for giving me life, raising me, guiding me, and loving me unconditionally.

I'm sorry for not being able to love you as much as you loved me. But, it is true when I say, I am thankful.

So, if my negligence did kill you, I shall carry that burden to my grave. I am sorry and thank you for everything.




Love,
Your daughter



© Rosabella Thorne 2024
#family #mother #mother-daughter #mommyissues #familyproblems #death