March

own memo

r D

e effects of my allergic reaction still lay heavily inside my system. Or maybe it was because the sun had been setting, and I didn't get a proper survey of my surroundings. Maybe I ha

mom had died in a room just like this though hers had been very different e

me. In my drowsiness it had flickered in and out of my sight. Slowly my head turned to my right and the steady humming of the heart rate monitor dulled in my ears like it was far away and in my flicking vision, I barely mad

oard that stung my neck as I tried to sit, the pale white walls, but what had roused me fully awake was the sterile scent of antise

ony in the corridor, faded a bit by the walls and closed doors of my ward, the memory

e of her anthracyclines, but I couldn't. My hands just froze as I watched mom wringle and clutch firmly at her spreadsheets. One moment she had been laughing, even though the sound was an echo of what it used to sound like. I had read to her about my fight with Randy Floss, our class bully. He had made fun of her

, even confectionaries packed most of the space. People liked mom, she was always good a

to the vibrant and classic "Georgia Miller" personality they were used to. How shallow her voice sounded, he ha

rising in my depths as laughter echoed in the halls. My lunge at Randy took even me by surprise. No one saw it coming, one moment they had all been laughing, the next they were hailing me as I pinned Randy to the ground, slapping, punching and clawing a

ss life, mom's illness, dad for not giving a fuck like he is supposed to, school, pain-in-the-ass-nosy-dumb-ass dudes like Randy, the bitch-cancer for slowly making mom unrecognizable, the fact that th

strong arms constrained me, I wasn't ready to let Randy go just yet, even as he wept like a baby– I still wasn't pacified. Unab

s motherfucker, now who is unrecogn

t them but never said them out loud. Only with you, Dia did I feel free to use them. With mom's diagnos

lded me for letting my anger and rage get the better of me by saying such words out loud, as opposed to how cool she was with me using them in my entries. She had said

emotions I feel inside. She had said that it was therapeutic and that she admired the matured way I handled my emo

ad from her pillows to stare into my eyes even as she winced at the effort. I had been willing to do anything for her– anything that would keep her happy, as dad and the hospital staff keep reminding me as if I could bea

ed for me to continue our reading but with a recap from the part where I had cursed out Randy's stupid as

ith sorrowful souls and I didn't need that energy. I ran out of the building, dad's shouts of protest echoing behind me. The walk with t

hristians, but we hardly went to church until mom had fallen sick. My grannys had made sure to take me to church every Sunday and f

ad come to share the news. For minutes, he just stood there unable to utter a word, but I knew– without telling me, I knew from the tear

middle of the walk. That was when dad came running, and I threw myself at him. Together we sat there not caring, not giving a fuck and cried. I can't remember how long we stayed there, people watched, they offered words of consolation, but none of th

y shielding her features from view. Dad had asked everyone to exit the room, rather rudely. But when he tried to uncover the spread, his hands just couldn't

after trying for what was the hundredth time. He had k

ere both coated in scarlet. He didn't even meet my gaze as they restrained him like a wild animal. It t

of the doctors or was it a morgue attendant lifted the spread to unv

expected that, mom was a cheerful soul, of course, she would smile in the face of death but couldn't she have put up more of a fight. She shouldn't have

ger able to keep staring. My eyes had remai

coffin was laid into the ground, I had tried to stop them by frantically hurling myself on the coffin. Dad had held me back, his arms, a strong grip holding me in place. He hadn't cried at the cemetery even when his

At home where we attended to guests who came for the burial rites, I snapped and kept all at arms length. Not eve

You have her in you, her eyes, her lips, her face and though

ted no reminder of mom, I wanted mom in the flesh, not in the fragments she had left behind. Does that even make

to eat, kept mute amongst other stupid things I did to process the void that no one els

d client she had ever dealt with. When others gave a similar comment, dad had to give up, although he tri

hday, but I hadn't given him an audience. I had faced the left wall, saying nothing, not even giving him a glance as he rattled on about ho

dutiful brother bullshit. Even as I suspected that Felicia, his mom wasn't at fault, I

, I wasn't really there. I was trapped in the memories of my eleven-year old self, remembering how ma

years later, the pain of losing her still feels

. I remembered the sound of her voice, the warmth of her embrace, and the love that radiated from her like a bea

d to find solace in the knowledge that she's in a better place, resting. In the fact, that she had taken time to write me a letter for my 16th birthday which I haven't read but had requested that da

ared, the lessons she taught me, and the love that will always bind us together. And though she may no longer be by

life with courage and resilience, knowing that she is watching over m

iend and a part of my soul. I don't know how people heal with time, because I can't seem to do th

I will be able to read it today. I'm already so s