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The Mother
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The Mother |
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Mad_Hatter Member
since 2003-06-29
Posts 393Canada |
Most people expect you to be overwhelmingly sad or afraid when you first find out you’re going to die from a virus with no cure. I was not sad, I was not afraid to die, but afraid of what was going to happen when I left my family behind. I remember when I first had to tell my daughter. “Cynthia, could you come into the kitchen for a moment.” I beckoned to her. “Yeah, hold on.” She had called back to me, her voice seemed so much sweeter than usual. Funny how diseases can make the most normal of things seem so extraordinary. Or maybe it’s just because for once we weren’t fighting. She had shrugged into the kitchen, clearly not wanting to. Yet she managed to apply a somewhat interested look when she next spoke. “What is it?” “Honey, come sit down…we need to talk.” I spoke to her as softly and warmly as I could muster. “Why? What is it?” She questioned, this time with a look of genuine concern. “Just, please…sit down.” She made her way over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. She looked into my eyes and then the sadness hit me. I saw my world in her eyes, I saw my life in her. I saw further into the pretty blue eyes than I had ever before. I then mustered up the courage and began to speak, without really knowing where I was going to start. “Cynthia, I don’t really know how to tell you this…” She cut me off, without really meaning to, but none the less she took the words out of my mouth. “You’re not dying or something are you?” She said slightly giggling. “Yes, as a matter of fact…I am.” I spoke, unable to look her in the face. “W-what? You’re…actually dying?” She spoke to me with horror dawning upon her face. “Yes. I am dying of cancer and I had to tell you, before you found out some other way.” “This, this can’t be true…the doctors must have been wrong…” She spoke trying to avoid the truth of the situation with as much effort as possible. “No, Cynthia. The doctors are right.” “No, I won’t believe it, they are lying to you, or you’re lying to me!” She screamed to me tears flowing down her face. “I would never lie to you about something like this and doctors don’t lie to their patients. This is the reality and we can’t ignore it, just because we don’t like it.” I attempted to reason with her. Then without another word, she left; running as fast as possible to her room. There I was, left alone, tears flowing and unarranged flowers in my hand. I looked at those flowers and in my heart I saw the colours slowly melt away, until all that was left was grey. That I thought to myself, is the last moment of happiness in your life…the colours of those flowers. For the next three days Cynthia completely ignored the fact that we had ever talked about me dying. She simply went on with life, as though everything was normal. Then one night while I was reading the paper, she came and sat down to talk to me. “H-how long do you have?” She spoke softly, but unforgiving. “A year…maybe.” I said. “Does dad know?” She forced out, attempting to hide the fact that a tear was trailing down her cheek. “No” I responded. She didn’t say anything, but she did shoot me a look, a look of disapproval. “Well, when were you planning on telling him?” She asked in a scolding manner. “Whenever I can find it in my heart, to break another’s.” At this point we just sat and looked at each other and no more words were spoken. We once again locked eyes and I could see that glimmer of life in her eyes. A glimmer I would find in months ahead, would disappear. A week or so had passed, before I could find the courage to tell my husband, who I had begun to grow apart from over the previous three months. It would be a conversation that I would never forget. As we sat in bed watching the television I worked up the courage to begin to start the conversation. “Honey, we, we really need to talk.” I spoke, gently. “Yeah, I know.” He replied, as though he was expecting this. “You, know?” I questioned. “Well I think it’s pretty obvious, we are growing apart. I can’t do this any more Jillian, I can’t keep this pretend happiness up for much longer.” He responded. “W-what?” I again questioned a bit bewildered. “Jillian…I just…I just don’t think I love you anymore. I want a divorce. I want to feel alive again.” At times when you think things can’t possibly get any worse, they always find a way and they become one more thing on the list of pain. I didn’t know what to say, I could only feel the fresh wave of sadness and panic wash over my entire body. I sat there silently, dumbfounded, until he eventually spoke up again. “Well, don’t you have anything to say?” He asked, raising his voice slightly. “I’m dying.” After that, my husband didn’t speak for the rest of the night, he just sat there, until eventually we both fell asleep. When I awoke in the morning, he was gone, along with all of his clothes. That’s when everything all suddenly just hit me square in the face and all the fact came flying at me. I was dying, my husband didn’t love me anymore, my daughter was moving away in two weeks, to live with her friend. I felt completely and utterly alone. So then, the months began passing and the divorce papers were filed and my perfect life began to come undone. Everything I thought was perfect, slowly revealed it’s hideousness and then slipped away. My daughter, the most important thing in my life had stopped talking to both me and her father. She was off in New York with her friend and I was left back at home to die alone. Eventually the divorce got settled and the chemo set in. I decided I would go up to New York (against doctors orders) to try and patch things up with Cynthia. I arrived at New York around 10 o clock at night with the rain pouring. I told the cab Cynthia’s address which I had written on a crumpled piece of paper. After what had seemed like an eternity the cab stopped, so I paid and got out. Then I saw something, the most painful part of my life had happened in a split second. There in the pouring rain was Cynthia; wearing a mini skirt, high black boots and a shirt a couple sizes too small for her, hastily covered up by a worn down blue feathery scarf. The last glimmer of hope left in my body washed itself out of my pours and down my soaking body and into the gutter with all the rain. It wasn’t enough that my life had to miserably fail, but the only thing that mattered to me anymore was now also failing. I didn’t know whether I should just go home or attempt to talk to her. Before I knew it, I was walking towards her. Once I was close enough to her, I stood there, waiting for her to turn around and face her dying mother. She finally did. She spoke at first not realizing who I was. “What do you want, can’t you….mom? What are you doing here? I thought I left you back in that lame town forever.” “I’m your mother Cynthia and I’m dying…doesn’t that mean anything to you? What are you doing here? Look at what you’re doing with your life.” “Well, we all have to die some time. As for this, money is a little tight right now. So, why don’t you just head on back home and try and die in peace. I’m sure it’s really heart warming to have to come and see you’re daughter is just as much of a failure as you are.” Then she stormed off, disappearing into the black rain, disappearing from me forever. So then I went back home. I continued taking my “healing” drugs and doing my chemo, but the cancer continued to grow. So then they moved me out of my home and into a hospital. I was left to stare, all alone at the white walls of that room. I had nothing, everything I had ever loved, everything I had strived to make perfect was now a complete disaster. I had been in the hospital for six months, then I really started to feel the life in my slip. I grew too weak to walk and I knew that the end was coming soon, sometimes I could at least find peace in that. I had never really had time to come to terms with the fact that I was dying. Then one day, my ex-husband walked through my hospital door, holding hands with a beautiful young woman. I could feel the anger and pain and the hatred building up inside of me. “Hi” He said softly. “I just thought, it would be only be right…” He began to speak before I cut him off. “GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE! DON’T EVER COME BACK! YOU DON’T LOVE ME ANYMORE! SO JUST GET…OUT!” I screamed as loud as I could, tears pouring over my face, hands flailing towards the door. He stood there, his eyes tear filled, but not crying. Then he with a great deal of hesitation he and his new wife left the hospital room, never to be seen in my life again. Another couple of weeks passed and I hoped with all the energy left in me that maybe my daughter would come. Then the day came and as I died, I realized she hadn’t come. My final thought, was that perhaps one day she would dream of me and in that dream all the beauty of life could come back and everything could be okay. |
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Munda Member Elite
since 1999-10-08
Posts 3544The Hague, The Netherlands |
Sometimes it seems when things go wrong, they only get worse and there's no way out but death for this lady. A sad story, but written in a pleasant style to read. Well done! |
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