My Beautiful Disastrous Home
I stood there before her. Dead.
I am unable to cry. It is stuck in my throat pushing at my eyes and suffocates my chest. I came to Texas to see her but I arrived too late. I never got to whisper in her ear just how much I love her. I wanted to apologize for ever doubting her, for not spending more time with her.
I cannot whisper in her ear. Before me lays a shell, a mere vessel used to survive this world. I know she is somewhere. I feel it. Yet, I feel lonely, broken and abandoned.
I stare out her deathbed window. It is a beautiful day. Crisp sunny with a steady breeze. Mesmerized I watch the Texas flag whip against the wind.
I allow my mind to wander. Flood of memories, Flood of fails and victories. I realize at this moment I lost my home. Tears slide down my check. Outwardly I silently cry. No expression just vacant glass stare as the waterfall of my eyes soak my shirt. Inside I rage, I beg her to breathe, I collapse into myself. I am going to truly miss her. Who is going to love me now? that unconditional love a mother carries for her child. She was my friend, my protector, my guide, and my warrior. There is no one who will have her loyalty as she gave to me. Her loyalty is never torn to serve another. I never knew how much I love her til now. I have taken her for granted. I see her faults but through clearer eyes. Her intentions yet good became catastrophic and yet I find myself smiling. In a moment I finally understood every pain she felt, every worry, and every tear.
Why? Why did I have to come to realize this now? Is every child cursed with this? Do my own children not know my worth? Do they know of my loyalty?
I always held my mother immortal. Am I immortal?
My mom spent my life trying to make up for something. I want to tell her that she never did anything wrong. She was never malicious. Does she hear my thoughts? Must I speak out loud for her to hear? Or did she always carry the faith that one day I will come to understand her? Did she have this much faith in me? Do I have the same faith for my children?............
Standing before her I allow my eyes to travel down her body. I start at her head. Her eyes are closed but I can see her smiling and laughing towards me. I strain to hear her voice. I hear of nothing. No sigh, no whisper, not even a slight breath. Continuing my journey, my eyes rest at her hands. I look at my own searching for resemblance. I vaguely catch a glimpse. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. I am trying to carry something of her with me. I had forgotten I have her eyes, the color of her hair and certain expressions mirrored her own. It was important to me to have her hands. Why was this so important to me? If she goes, do I go? Do I not exist without her? Why ? Why her hands? I cry harder because my hands are not like hers they are just hands. my hands…
It did not occur to me the absurdity of my thoughts. My mind swirled with all the connections I had with my mom. Then suddenly everything became chaotic around me. The void of everything feasted upon my flesh. I am nothing, nothing without her. Now, my mother lays before me quietly. I stood motionless against the gust of wind in the void around me. Then in an instant, I was back. Back in that hospital room with my dead mother.
Without knowing what to say and mask my grief, I told her it was a good day to die. I asked her to visit me often and always offer me guidance. I knew she would do everything I asked of her because no matter in this life, my life or any other she will always be my mother.
I leaned down and kissed her forehead. Sobs stuck in my throat. Even in death, I wanted to show her how brave I am. Make her proud. My body shook, my head exploded. All of a sudden I wanted to smash the window, throw chairs around the room. I am angry. She is NOT supposed to die! I screamed inside my head, I tore at my heart and sliced my soul. Heaven and Hell are battling inside of me. I didn’t think I would survive. The flesh on my bones began to burn and my eyes only saw the blurred image of my mother. “Don’t leave me” I begged silently. My mother was taking something from me that I would never find again.
She is taking my home. She is my home. My beautiful disastrous home.