Last night I dissociated so

badly that I

felt my mind leave my

body

I went to my

happy

place

Three thousand

miles

away

Where he lives

And one day

I will return

home

To him

I haven't seen or talked to my wife in many months. The last time we shook hands and had a real conversation was six months ago before the end of the era began. I wrote a letter everytime I missed them, and wrote an average of 3 per day since last year. It feels like running on 15% every day. Not low enough for hardcore powersaving, but not enough to be utilized normally for fear it'll run empty. Always on 15% motivation, 15% productivity.

I'm resigned to it now, but it still feels emptier, even with all the work there is to do and all the time I have to reconnect with all the other friends staying home too. I miss my wife, but they're busy kickstarting their career. I understand the space and distance, it's not a choice, I really do understand. But that doesn't make it suck any less. Knowing where you're going doesn't help the fact you have to get there.

“Never eye to eye,

but always heart to heart”.

That’s how my relationship with my mom has been. We argue over the most trivial things, have a difference of opinion on most matters, and it was only a few years ago that I realised how much she means to me.

My mom has shaped me in many ways- imparting a love for reading, encouraging me to participate in debate and quiz competitions, and exhorting me to strive for excellence in all spheres. She has been my biggest role model since I was a child. She did not cook for us very often (though when she did, the results would be finger-licking delicious), because she was busy at work. I can’t recall her telling us bedtime stories, but she set an example through her work ethic, unimpeachable integrity, courtesy and kindness. When she was transferred to another town for almost a year, I was shattered. My studies went for a toss. It didn’t feel like home without her.

I wouldn’t say that my mom is my best friend. There have been subjects, such as my mental health, that she either does not realise the gravity of or disagrees with me on. So I no longer tell her about these things. Yet, I cannot imagine a life without her. My cousin recently lost his mother and seeing his grief shook me to the core. I realised that I should be grateful for having my parents, and should be more loving. You see, my mom doesn’t just mean the world to me, she is my world.

On mother’s day, I live on a deserted island. Not just this year because of Covid-19. Every year since my birth. I sincerely mean it when I say, I hate to go negative. It takes every ounce of my being every day to smile, to stay positive when my childhood was literally a clusterfuck. My mother was an abusive alcoholic and let’s just say I was her hockey puck and leave it at that. I forgave her a long time ago, long before she died of alcohol related illness at 56 years old. I am a firm believer in moving on, in leaving the past behind, but as well, let there be no misunderstanding, child abuse leaves permanent scars.

As to your question, what would I do if she wasn’t there? I cannot give you a definitive answer, but I’d like to think I would have made better choices in my life.

I am proud to say, in spite of the person who gave birth to me, I raised three amazing children that love me. Our love is unconditional and yes, good children can be raised without lifting a hand to them. I can attest to that. So every year when I see posts that say let’s give it up to your Mom, I cannot personally jump on that bandwagon for mine, and that is okay, because there are a whole lot of moms out there that are the bomb and I salute them, one and all! Including, pat on back, myself!

P. S. I do not understand why this challenge does not have more entries!

When I think about her,

My eyes go all blur,

A thought takes over my mind,

And I become blind...

Blinded by her love,

Ah, so pretty like a dove,

A shoulder to cry on,

A friendship to rely on.

Pampered by her care,

Her warmth so rare,

Strength to hide behind

When fear takes over my mind

Every day she grows a bit older,

But the same strength on her shoulder,

She gets some white hair,

But, smile still full of glare.

God moulded her heart of gold,

She is so caring yet so bold.

She is the shining star in my life,

Not only is she a great mother,

But an excellent wife.

I am alone.

It never crossed my mind that it could come to this. I have had nightmares all my life, but not one touched the reality of my life today.

It happened slowly at first.

Everyone stayed inside so much, no one really noticed when friends and neighbors stopped coming out of their homes; when the city streets overflowing with garbage and rodents stayed empty of people. With the recent, ongoing plague, everyone assumed when they stopped seeing someone on Zoom or at their window, stopped hearing from them, that the worst had happened. That death had arrived sooner than expected. No one realized the slow, insidious, relentless tendrils of Death were reaching out across the globe, choking all life in its path.

Overwhelmed hospitals and clinics closed their doors, one by one, as medical staff gave up or perished. The sick and the dying, died at home.

It took a while before I realized the problem was greater than I had imagined. Garbage collection ceased. Happily living in a small town, I composted what I could, burned some and stored cans and such things in the garage. Within weeks of each other, gas and electric were shut off for reasons unknown. No one, not even an automated voice, answered my calls. Constant busy signal. Water continued to run, and for that, I was grateful.

And then, death arrived at my door: I lost my entire family within a month and by the time my beautiful daughter closed her eyes for the last time, there was no one to call to remove the body, no cemetery or crematorium, no morgue or funeral home had anyone still working. My calls went unanswered. I reached out to neighbors to help, but no one answered the door. I dug a grave as best I could, and buried her in our back garden.

Not soon after, news programs stopped running; only constant streaming of old programming became available. Radio stations went dark or played the same playlists over and over. No one but me was posting on social media.

For a little over a week, my calls for food delivery have gone unanswered. Websites have had constant error messages and have stopped accepting orders.

For the first time in a year, I left my home today. I was hungry.

I walked the empty streets in awe of the utter and complete silence save the sound of birds chirping.

I arrived at a market whose doors were open: Food on shelves was sparse; what little produce and meat remained was spoiled and smelled; the aisles, empty. No cashiers. No manager making the occasional announcement. No one. My footsteps echoed loudly. My heart raced and I began to sweat.

I found a few cans of tuna fish, some baked beans and a jar of peanut butter. I serviced myself and tried to pay with my credit card. It gave an error message. I had no cash. Feeling guilty, I took my purchases and left.

I walked quickly, ran really, my heart pounding. How was this possible?

How is this possible?

Am I the only person left? And if I am not, how will I find others? And if I find others, who is to say I would not be safer alone, in my home?

Night will fall soon and I don’t know if I will sleep. I was always afraid of the dark and the nightmares that peppered my dreams. Of the shadows that hid monsters. Of death awaiting.

Now I am just afraid, because...

I am alone.

I drank a glass of love

With you.

Getting high on emotions

Every night.

Felt the bitter taste

Of Intentions by closing my eyes.

Neglecting the hangover

Of Abandonment.

It happened for days on end.

The Addiction added up

At your every sight.

One day I realised to slow down

The drops of time.

That morning I thought to check

The label of the bottle

It said "Absinthe of Lie"

I ran to rehabilitation

There I experienced

Withdrawal symptoms

Of Lust.

Struggled with

Tattoos of Shame

And Breaths of

Cuss.

Took me years to be better

Then I walked out

In the World of Desires.

I promised myself

Not be the Slave

Of the Attire.

Still it was tough

Watching people drink

The Poison of Love.

I went on with my life

Drinking glasses

Of Friendships

And Blood.

They felt sweet

Filled with Compassion

And Trust.

One evening I went to a bar

Before I could order

I saw a man breaking

The bottles

Of Deception.

He looked frustrated at this

Environment of Bluff.

Sat close to me and drank water.

Famously known as

The Drink of Sanity.

He stared my Gaze

And I stared his Maze.

I started talking

Feeling deviated

From my Promise.

Without him knowing

I ordered a sparkling

Apple juice.

To see if I'll be used.

He kept on listening

To me.

Sunset arose and we planned

To meet in the next nightfall.

He chose to be

Same and Sane.

Unbeknownst to him

I poured

Cranes of Berries.

I decanted out my truth

By faking

The Sips of Sham.

Every Eventide

I gulped juices

Of Grapes so sour

Of Watermelons so heavy

Of Beetroot so bitter

Of Strawberries so many

Even drank

Pomegranates so tiny

Tried Mocktails

With a cherry.

And he went on with his

Water of Purity

Water of Spirituality

Water of Healing

Water of Protection

He simply smiled

Whenever his glass broke.

He held my hand

While I made the

Cocktail

He inhaled my malaise

And said,

"There's no need to

Sail in the barrels

Of fear.

Always remember

I'll dive into you

Even when you're

Stale."

At this I exhaled

With corrupt liquor

Going out of my veins.

There was no point

In asking the drunkards

When I could see

The innocence

Of his untangled Reflections

Testifying his present

And true past.

As I stepped in the next day

He went on one knee

In the bar which now had

Broken Bottles.

He made sure I didn't

Got hurt by

The Pieces of Glasses

Or Drowned in the

Drinks of Masses.

We respired as

He politely said,

"Addictions are bad!

I don't want you to

Get enslaved

To Alcohol

Or Me."

×∞ Adin

1 May 2020

My father died. Two days before my son was born. That happens to be exactly 27 years ago today.

I was on bed rest when he died. My mother called my husband and told him to go outside to a pay phone – it was the days before cell phones – but to be surreptitious about it so that I wouldn’t realize anything was going on.

And so, she told him and they cried together, him somewhere in the streets of Philadelphia, her in her home in New York. And they decided not to tell me until after the birth – their logic being that they didn’t want to affect me or the baby in some negative way.

I don’t’ know how I didn’t notice red eyes or a grieving soul. I usually read my husband’s every mood and feeling. But not that day.

Two days later, I slept poorly and assumed it was the greasy burger and fries my husband had cooked for dinner. Did I mention that I had been on bed rest for four months and hadn’t seen my dad since Christmas when he was bursting with excitement for the grandson or granddaughter in my belly? He went on and on about the things they would do together, the most important being fishing. He couldn’t wait to go fishing. Sometimes that is what makes me cry more than just his death: the knowing how excited he was about his first, would be, grandson. And they never met except perhaps in transit as one soul left and another came to me.

So, two days after my husband and mother decided not to tell me, I got sick in the middle of the night. Except I wasn’t sick. I was going into labor. We called the doctor and my mother. Then we called a taxi to take us to the hospital.

A little over five hours later, I gave birth. As I lay there with my beautiful son on my chest, the doctor said, “Oh, by the way, your husband and your mom didn’t want to tell you before, but your dad died on Monday.”

The nurse’s jaw dropped as did that of the midwife and the midwife intern. I suspect I burst into tears, but I really don’t remember.

I guess there would never have been a good moment to tell me. And perhaps in the face of this new life in my arms, it was the best moment really. There is no time to fall apart and grieve when a new little human needs you like you have never been needed before.

And so, you do what you must, and carry on.

“I miss you, Daddy,” she whimpers

crying in the night

holding her dear teddy bear

waiting for daylight

hoping against hope

that when she opens her eyes

Daddy will be there

and give everyone a surprise;

They keep saying he’s not coming back

that he’s gone to be with God

but she’s praying he’s just hiding

though that thinking is flawed

for she saw him lying in the church

saw them put him in the ground

watched them cover him with dirt

placed flowers on the mound.

She burrows under the blankets

hugs her teddy to her heart

quietly listens to the silence

for a whisper in the dark;

if she listens closely,

she’s certain that it’s true,

she’ll hear her daddy say to her

“Darlin’, I miss you, too.”