sad · words


“What are we doing this year’s holiday mum?” I asked after making myself comfortable on couch.

“I’m thinking, driving to the country and staying at a cottage for a week, just the two of us.” She said leaning over to peck my head.

She had been a single parent as long I could remember, and that smile never faltered. She had once said, my father hadn’t bothered to stick around and she never sweat over it.

That conversation seemed to have existed in a different lifetime compared to the world I was in. After just arriving home from school, I had received the phone call. Mum had been admitted to the hospital with a terminal illness. She’d fainted at work and the doctor had suggested she gets a further check up after conducting some tests.

A friend of mum had dropped me off at the hospital.

Apprehensive, I had rounded the corner to the room she was in but instead ran into the Doctor. He had broken the news delicately, but I still remember that whole second when everything had turned white, no noise, and no heartbeat, just blank and bleak!

I stood motionless at the foot of the bed.  Mum’s ashen face, the shallow breathing and the sudden vulnerability that had entered her face; with all the medical equipment around her, I knew she would soon be a corpse and mum wouldn’t be around from then on.

It was as if my soul stood next to the body deciding if to return or move on carrying the pain away. But, as it had seeped back in I had felt the gaping cracks, the faint thud of my heart and the tingles all over my body that hadn’t eased.


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