a letter never written to be read....

Today is the big day when my Mom left a year ago...I survived a year, but I will never ever forget the last couple of days...my reflection...as it was...
It was Sunday morning when I looked at her and realized that she has changed. She no longer spoke to me. She no longer reacted to my presence...she no longer knew what was going around her. I spent with her an hour sitting by her bed then as usual decided to go to the kitchen and eat something for breakfast. I poured cereals in my bowl, poured milk on top, got the first scoop, but then...I just couldn’t eat it. I put the spoon down and went back to Mom. All day that day I sat by her bed…talked to her, but I never got a response from her. She was different. She was staring at the ceiling…her eyes were different...the light broke into her eyes. I asked her what is she thinking of? What is she seeing front of her? She never replied…she was far…far away somewhere else. The whole day, she didn’t move, she didn’t sigh, she didn’t turn her head towards me, or anything. She just lay there; staring at the ceiling…her staring was broken only by her occasional blink. Night came, and as usual, I bent over her, gave her a big good night kiss, wetted her small towels that she liked to have around her neck…put it back, but she didn’t reacted, or nodded for a “thanks”…nothing. I fell asleep by her bed.
Monday morning I woke up and realized that she never called at night as she did before. I looked at her…she was heavily breathing, and as yesterday, staring front of her. But she was even farther away than yesterday…she didn’t blink at all. Even though, I knew she is going to die, at that time, I didn't know that Mom has not much time left, so maybe I should say goodbye to her. No. I couldn’t believe that, nor I wanted to believe that.I sat down by her bed, made a warm chamomile tea and occasionally wetted her eyes to prevent them from drying out. I was trying to tell mom that she should close her eyes, but I don’t think she heard me because she didn’t close her eyes. I put a wet small towel over it to keep it moist and kept asking her to close her eyes…she didn’t. She was breathing even heavier than the day before…every breath she took made me jump being horrified that it will be the last. Lunch time came, I made her some food…even though somewhere I knew that Mom no longer eats anything, but I brought it in, so she can have it. I remembered how she liked that food earlier and how I used to feed her, and I remembered her telling me that since I’m by her side all day, I should eat half of it. So, we shared it always...I remembered every bite of it…but this time, I couldn’t swallow a small bite…I felt something was chocking me…I felt that something really big and heavy was in my throat that prevented me from being able to swallow anything down. I crawled next to mom…I was watching her chest rising, and then falling like a waterfall. It seemed as if the air she breathed in was so heavy that when she was exhaling it, it was more of just pressuring it out…her chest fell like rock from a top of a high mountain. I wished I could do something to ease it. I told her she should swallow some…I was horrified of seeing and hearing her choking into her own saliva. I was begging her to swallow as I didn’t see her swallow since the morning…then as if she heard me, she swallowed…and with that…she swallowed her life down…3 small breathings came, but by the sound of them I knew these were coming as residuals…not from my living mom. I sat up…looked at her deeply…I knew what just happened…but I couldn’t move. I froze. Then out of her reflex that was still working, she closed her eyes, and said “Sophie”…and there it was…a life that is no longer in her. I bent over her, I whispered her that I’m here, and that I love her, and I will always love her. I asked her if she hears me…but obviously she didn’t. I lay back and just stared at the ceiling. Half an hour went by and then I sat back up…crawled out of the bed, put my shoes on…I didn’t know what to do. I knew, I should call the neighbor over to help arrange whatever needs to be done, but at the same time I couldn’t. I felt frozen. Just stood there, no tears, nothing…just staring down at Mom. Then I shuffled to our neighbor's door, rang the doorbell...he opened the door, and looked at me asking "is everything okay?" I looked up at him, grabbed his hand and pulled him over into our house, to my Mom's bed. He called the Transporter and he said they will call the doctor who will check mom and declare the time of death. Then we’ll have to start filling out papers. I heard everything he said, and yet, I felt frozen. I felt as if he was speaking a completely different language than I do. He left again to make the phone call. I stood there, frozen. I felt so sick, so weak. Then the Transporter arrived and they started talking with the neighbor. I stared at them as if I had no idea what they were saying…I could barely able to breath…then quietly I started packing Mom’s stuff. All this time Mom lay in the bed…no comments about how I fold her stuff…no comments on which CD she still wants to listen to, or what towel she still needs for tonight’s shower. Every piece of her stuff bothered me. I didn’t want to put away her stuff. I didn't want her to leave without her stuff, and yet, I knew, once they are done with the paper work…that’s exactly what’s gonna happen next. The pathologist broke the chitchat. She ordered all of us outside, so that she can listen to my Mom’s heart…her heart that was no longer beating. She came outside within a minute…the neighbor went after her to start the paper process…then we were “done”. The Transporter people brought in an ugly wooden coffin and within minutes she was in the car...as I was shutting the backdoor of the car, I looked back at her again...she was sleeping…she was beautiful. The pain has gone from her face…she seemed relieved. She seemed so calm, so peaceful. And in that instant, I realized that this is really good for her…then I shut the door. And they left...I was left on the street with the neighbor standing there...and I was afraid...afraid of everything...what's next? I begged the neighbor not to call the social workers yet...he said, okay...and asked me to go over to their house when I'm ready. I went back to the house where the papers were...I hated to look at the paper seeing Mom’s birthday, and then a date of her death…a date I will never ever forget. A date that got imprinted in me…I still see the paper front of me…every piece of it. I remember the line where the description of death was…tumorosa malignosa. ****! I thought! I had this chill running through my back…I couldn’t believe these cancer cells killed her! I couldn't stay in the house, so I went outside and I looked up at the sky…the sun has gone behind the clouds, and it didn’t resemble of the hot summer days that we had earlier. Then rain started to drop…everybody is crying with me up there...but I decided to take a walk anyway...I only walked a block...it was raining by then, but I didn’t care. Every one of my step seemed as if I had lead in my foot…I barely could walk. The rain was pouring down my face…it was good…no one saw me tearing up. And I felt so sick…then I threw up. No one bothered about me throwing up in the middle of the street…they probably thought I was drunk, or on drugs, or just sick. However, at that time, I felt, maybe they know what is wrong with me…that night I woke up three times…
The next day, we arranged the cremation with the neighbor. That week nothing happened…everything stopped. All the clocks stopped in the world. Somebody put a big pillow on the world. It was so quiet. Then Thursday came and we got back her ashes. I felt so relieved. I felt as if she came back home. I was so happy. That night, I took her into my bed and slept with her. The rest of the week, I was taking mom with me everywhere in my backpack, and was barely at home. We went to the nearest city, looked around, “enjoyed” the summer days…but I felt like a deaf person. I didn’t perceived anything that was surrounding me…I didn’t hear anything, and I didn’t see anything. I was numb. I was frozen. Just walked, and walked and walked. No purpose, but just walked. No lunch…who cares? I wasn’t hungry. Every night I got home late, and left early morning and just walked around like a strayed dog...I hated to get home...The house was EMPTY. It was so empty as it never was before. Something was missing. I couldn’t figure out what as there has been plenty of other occasions when no one was at home, but only me, by myself. But this time it was definitely different than those “plenty-of-other-occasions”. I stopped cold by the living room door…there it was. Mom’s bed…with the towels, the sheets, the glass she was drinking out from…her pills…everything. I couldn’t step inside the room…just stood by the door for half an hour staring as if I saw something magic. Then shut the door and left the house. I was biking around the city with no target whatsoever. I only wished there was someone…someone who I could cry to…or talk to…or get busy with…or I don’t know. But I just really wished there was someone…but at the same time I was catching myself think that I really hope I don’t meet anyone. I was starving…I knew my Mom’s friend is at home, and I could go to her house and say I’m hungry and I knew she, without saying anything, would serve me big lunch. But I didn’t do it…I couldn’t. Something was holding me back from doing this. And I was starving and wanted to eat, and I was lonely and wanted to be with someone, and yet, I didn’t eat, and yet, I didn’t want to meet with anyone. That whole week was the longest week ever in my life!!! Weekend came and my neighbor told me that it's been a week, and I cannot live on like this forever on my own, and eventually they will come and take me, so I should wash Mom’s stuff, fold them away, and put everything back the way they were before Mom got sick and get ready to leave the house. I had to step into the room I avoided for the whole week. I went over her bed…knelt down…a started to cry. Then I did what he told me to do while the whole time trying to swallow hard so that I will not start bawling.
I got ready...and by that time he made the phone call...I was standing by our house door feeling like not only Mom left, but my whole life is turning away from me...they came, along with the cops, who sealed the door, and told me that once I'll become an adult, I can come back, they will secure the house. I hopped into the back of the car, and as we drove off, I was just looking at the house, the street, the neighbors and felt that THIS IS JUST NOT RIGHT. The next two months I was in the children home, surrounded by other kids like me, but I was just not there...I mean physically I was...but mentally, in my mind...I was totally not there. Then I met my "new" parents...
And here I am now, and I am no closer to any understanding of where I am, than I was before, or what has actually happened. I try hard to ignore it, I try hard…but it comes back. I cannot stay at “home” because the memories, the past immediately comes back to me, and I feel I’ll break into tears. And I am no closer to any understanding why things happened…and I still cannot accept it. Now, I hear, now, I see, and yet I don’t find people. I want to find people, to trust them, to talk to them. I need them. I need them so that I can tell them my thoughts, my pain, my memories. And yet, just as at home while walking in the city, I resent anyone I can. Because I know if I talked to them about this…then it would have to be accepted…then it would have to be real. And that is what I cannot do…I cannot accept this.
Until I’m writing these, it doesn’t seem real. But I know if I opened my mouth and these came out of my very own mouth…they would have to become real then. And I catch myself being very angry…hating everything and everybody while fouling myself that I don’t care. I try to show ignorance towards others; towards everything…so that I can foul myself and make myself believe that I really don’t care. I don’t want to admit that I do. That is weakness. And I want to make myself believe that nothing can hurt my heart…that my heart is made of steel and nothing can hurt it anymore…nothing can break it anymore. And my ignorance helps me…protects me. No expectations, no disappointments. So, I guess I’ll just live my life from now on in a way that I do not care at all about anything, or anybody. There’s nothing in this whole universe that can hurt me, or break me! Nothing can upset me anymore…I am the calmest person that the planet has ever carried on its back…I’m made of steel; I’m made of ice. I’m calm, cold…very cold. Nothing can hurt me and nothing can break me. This is me. My steel heart, my ignorance, my coldness…I’m strong.....