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The Frozen Lament of a River's Love
What would she have said if she knew her life would end in that cold river she loved to take me to? I don't know. In her last minutes, would she have felt remorse, or regret, or would she have been numb with the effects of the drugs coursing through her veins?
I remember the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke of that river, a place of solace, a sanctuary where she found peace among the rushing current and the whispering trees. How she would hold my hand in hers, guiding me along the path, her laughter echoing through the air. We would skip stones, watch the birds dance upon the water's surface, and share secrets that only a mother and daughter can.
But as time went by, her mind unraveled like a ball of yarn cast adrift. It started with small tremors, subtle cracks in her spirit that would widen into canyons, leaving me standing on the precipice of a pain I could barely understand. Her eyes once filled with warmth and love became distant, haunted by shadows I couldn't touch. And that river, once a refuge, transformed into the dark lure of escape.
I pleaded with her, begged her not to go. But addiction knows no boundaries, pays no heed to the cries of loved ones. And so, one frigid morning, she slipped away from me, slipping beneath the icy waters like a phantom bidding farewell to the world.
What would she have said if she knew her life would end in that cold river she loved to take me to? Perhaps she would have held me tighter, whispered words of love and goodbye. Or maybe she would have simply vanished, shrouded in the silence that addiction spreads like a suffocating mist.
The river, that once flowed with the promise of tranquility, now became a harbinger of sorrow. Its current, now tainted with a grief that clung to my every breath, mirrored the turbulent turmoil within me. I returned to the place we once cherished, feeling the weight of her absence like a stone lodged in my chest. The trees whispered their condolences, weaving a lament in the empty spaces where she once stood.
I would sit for hours, staring at the water, hoping to catch a glimpse of her presence. Sometimes, I swore I saw her reflection in the ripples, her smile etched in the crests of the waves. But it was always an illusion, a mirage conjured by my yearning heart.
In those contemplative moments, I often wondered if I held any blame, if there was something I could have done differently. But addiction is a relentless beast that devours the souls of those in its grip, leaving behind a trail of broken hearts and shattered dreams.
The river continues to flow, unaware of the tragedy it witnessed, carrying its burdens downstream. As I watch its relentless motion, I find solace in knowing that my mother once felt a semblance of peace within its embrace. And though her life became entangled in the depths of its currents, it was here, among these rushing waters, that she was closest to herself.
What would she have said if she knew her life would end in that cold river she loved to take me to? I don't know. But what I do know is that, despite the pain and the heartache, the memories of our time together will forever be etched in the fabric of my being. And as I gaze upon this river, I can't help but feel a faint whisper of her love, carried on the breeze, assuring me that she is finally at peace.
© Jevanjee
I remember the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke of that river, a place of solace, a sanctuary where she found peace among the rushing current and the whispering trees. How she would hold my hand in hers, guiding me along the path, her laughter echoing through the air. We would skip stones, watch the birds dance upon the water's surface, and share secrets that only a mother and daughter can.
But as time went by, her mind unraveled like a ball of yarn cast adrift. It started with small tremors, subtle cracks in her spirit that would widen into canyons, leaving me standing on the precipice of a pain I could barely understand. Her eyes once filled with warmth and love became distant, haunted by shadows I couldn't touch. And that river, once a refuge, transformed into the dark lure of escape.
I pleaded with her, begged her not to go. But addiction knows no boundaries, pays no heed to the cries of loved ones. And so, one frigid morning, she slipped away from me, slipping beneath the icy waters like a phantom bidding farewell to the world.
What would she have said if she knew her life would end in that cold river she loved to take me to? Perhaps she would have held me tighter, whispered words of love and goodbye. Or maybe she would have simply vanished, shrouded in the silence that addiction spreads like a suffocating mist.
The river, that once flowed with the promise of tranquility, now became a harbinger of sorrow. Its current, now tainted with a grief that clung to my every breath, mirrored the turbulent turmoil within me. I returned to the place we once cherished, feeling the weight of her absence like a stone lodged in my chest. The trees whispered their condolences, weaving a lament in the empty spaces where she once stood.
I would sit for hours, staring at the water, hoping to catch a glimpse of her presence. Sometimes, I swore I saw her reflection in the ripples, her smile etched in the crests of the waves. But it was always an illusion, a mirage conjured by my yearning heart.
In those contemplative moments, I often wondered if I held any blame, if there was something I could have done differently. But addiction is a relentless beast that devours the souls of those in its grip, leaving behind a trail of broken hearts and shattered dreams.
The river continues to flow, unaware of the tragedy it witnessed, carrying its burdens downstream. As I watch its relentless motion, I find solace in knowing that my mother once felt a semblance of peace within its embrace. And though her life became entangled in the depths of its currents, it was here, among these rushing waters, that she was closest to herself.
What would she have said if she knew her life would end in that cold river she loved to take me to? I don't know. But what I do know is that, despite the pain and the heartache, the memories of our time together will forever be etched in the fabric of my being. And as I gaze upon this river, I can't help but feel a faint whisper of her love, carried on the breeze, assuring me that she is finally at peace.
© Jevanjee
