I remember the night so well. It was like just last week that she was here. But no. It hasn't. It's been four years since mom died. Why must death be part of life's cycle? Every becomes sad and mourns for their loved one. But I didn't. No. I couldn't cry for the woman who gave birth to me. I hadn't any tears to cry. Especially because I knew it was comin'.
Mom had been sick for four years when she died. It had gone away for a few months but then came back twice as strong. At the time I hadn't understood. Mom was sick, and she was dying. For the last two years of her life, I watched as she lost mobility, then her hearing, and then her will to eat. It just kept going downhill until finally, her skin turned yellow. You couldn't touch her, you could hardly be near her without the sounds of her wails echoing around the house. She still tried though. She tried to be what she thought was a good mother. Until the very end she tried to do her job. Every day she made sure we brushed our teeth, and I brushed my hair. The thing I think that I'm most glad about though, is she got to see one more of my dance recital's before she died. That made every thing so much better. The downfall of this though, was that the night mom died, I wasn't even home. I had been having a great time at the movies with a cousin I hadn't seen in six years, and and aunt and uncle I got to see less than once a year. I can home to find my mom's hospital bed empty, and the air thick with grief. I cried. I cried fake tears for my mom. I had to cry. I had to cry for the brother that was in Colorado at the time, and I had to cry for those who couldn't themselves. I became stone after that. I didn't cry. I hardly smiled. I lost my emotions. Even today I keep myself colder than ice, but now I have cracks. I'm slowly starting to come out of my once solid ice block.
Manage Your Items