Goodbye.

To me, you were more than a mother, you were my teacher, my mentor, my champion, my protector. You were the one who comforted me, and you never gave up on me, even when I'd given up on myself. Even when I was broken, and the rest of the world couldn't tolerate my existence, you held me and let me heal. When I was fumbling in the dark, you gave me a match and a candle.

And although you provided for me more than enough, you were never afraid to tell me no. You were my guide whenever I was struggling with my path. You were there when I needed you the most. Even when I thought I didn't need you anymore, you never abandoned me. You were always there with a walking stick in case I fell again.

You loved me despite my weaknesses and despite my lies. Even when you caught a glimpse of my wretchedness, you didn't cast me out, but bathed me and clothed me and made me shine again. You were never repulsed by what you saw within me, the monster that didn't deserve the gifts you gave me.

Words cannot explain how much I love you or the gratitude I feel. Some day, hopefully, we will meet again. Until then, I hope I can make you proud.

I will never forget your kindness.

Coming to terms

I eventually went to college today. It wasn't a case of feeling strong enough to go back to normal, it was more that I felt I needed the company.


The bus journey was awful, though. I kept thinking back to Friday, not knowing what had happened, the fear and the dread. My mp3 player had worked its way round to Linkin Park - A Thousand Suns. In many ways, this weekend had felt like the end of the world. I felt like hope, although not dead, was dim and fading fast.  I really cannot praise that album enough. I'm beginning to see things a little clearer now - zooming out, if you will. There's a bigger world out there, and today I saw a part of it.


I managed in for the second class. I met A and B and told them what had happened. They hugged me and patted me on the back and communicated that they were truly sorry for my loss. And during class, at times, I even managed to laugh. At the end of the day, I told them I couldn't face telling C over text, so B offered to tell him for me. I couldn't be more grateful for my friends' support.

And before I forget, to Tori and Lucia, thank you for the kind words. Knowing people care is one of things that helps me cope. A few months ago, only two real people cared about me, but now there's at least six. That's one of the things that most perplexes me about life - how quickly things can change.

Time seems like it's moving so fast, but I've grown so much in the past two months. It's as if, before I started college, I was used to looking at the world in a geological timeframe, where a millenium is short enough. Now, things happen so fast and change so much that you think it must have been at least a month when it's only been a week and a half.

I've been at college for less than two months. Two months used to fly by for me. Now, two days ... well, like I've said before, a lot can happen in two days. And not even a week ago. My Mum sprained her ankle on wednesday, and two days later she was dead. Has the world always worked like this? Was I too wrapped up in my own events to notice the changes around me?

I have to admit, the weekend's been tough on me. I had to be strong for my Dad. I kept it in my mind that although I lost my mother, he also lost his wife. I don't think it would have been fair to ask him to be strong for both of us.

I think he needs someone to talk to, though. He doesn't have many friends, just acquaintances, really. I think he made this family his main priority in life. He used to have friends, through playgroup and babysitting and things like that. I guess then it's really my fault, for being so weird.

Maybe some people from church would be willing to lend him an ear over a cuppa. He's already phoned our minister to see when he's free for the funeral. It's set for thursday, by the way. Dad already phoned Mum's work on Friday afternoon to let them know about the bad news. He's going to phone them tomorrow morning so they can pass on details of the funeral to her colleagues. Mum never talked to us much about work, but she's not the kind of person who would work in the same hospital for nearly ten years and not make any friends. I am a little nervous about running into many psychiatrists or psychologists at the funeral, especially ones who knew my mother. But I guess it's only natural for me to feel that way, since she seemed to be "protecting me from them" to a certain degree.

Anyway, I'd best be going. Goodnight everyone.

Desolation

Okay. I've woken up. She's not coming back. Nothing I can do - no hoping, no crying, no wishing, no starving myself - can ever bring her back. At first, I didn't want to know how or why. Now, I need a reason. I asked Dad more about what the Doctor's said. Apparently they said something about the lack of movement reducing the bloodflow to her legs, and somehow that made a clot that somehow managed to make its way to her lungs and block a passage and I don't buy it. I don't want to believe that she died for such a trivial reason. There has to be more. Why was she taken away from us?

Nothing seems to be going right. The wind is cold and bitter. Rain falls every so often, but it's the kind that soaks and chills and fills the air, instead of dripping from the sky. The internet hasn't been working since my last post. Just when I need an escape. I can't sleep. I saw her body yesterday. I tried to hold her hand, but it was so stiff and cold, and it felt like ... I don't even want to say. I just knelt down and cried.



I've had this song stuck in my head for over a day now. The main problem is it describes exactly how I feel (apart from the narrated bits, obviously). I just miss her so much. Dad's not been sleeping well. The past two nights he tried sleeping in their bed, but I've seen his eyes in the morning, and last night I thought I heard him yell out around one o'clock. He's in a sleeping bag on the couch tonight. I hope he sleeps well.

I've been running. It helps a little. I just lose my thoughts to the pounding of my feet, and I just feel nothing. My normal hallucinations were back by Friday evening. Yesterday, they all decided to visit me at once. I just turned around and there they were, filling my room, all staring at me with those sad, sympathetic eyes that make you just want to turn feral and attack them. In the end I shouted at them to go away. "Go away! You're not REAL!" I shouted, and they vanished. Then I heard scratching at the door. I opened it and saw Liam. He was sitting on his back paws, looking up at me like he knew what was wrong. I picked him up and took him over to my bed. I just lay there hugging him and crying for hours. I don't know why I had to be born with a malfunctioning brain. Liam's really the only constant presence in my life apart from the "real" people. Maybe I should just run away from it all. Hide inside my head. I don't know if I could do it, though. Completely let go of reality. And I don't think I should, either. I think my Dad needs me, and I've worked for so long away from "society" to claim my spot in the real world.

I don't know if I'll feel up to college tomorrow. It just feels so weird. Maybe something "normal" would help. I don't know. What I do know is that I'd have to get up early, and I don't think that'll be happening. Besides, I think Dad needs some company. I had to buy the shopping yesterday because he's so tired and busy trying to organise the funeral. Anyway, I think I might try and sleep now. It's good to get things off my chest.

Goodnight.

I feel ill.

Dad's not looking so good either. He's been slumped in a chair for hours, just staring out the window. He finished cleaning the blood off the carpet earlier. I suppose I should tell you what happened.

My Mum went upstairs early last night. She said she wanted to get some reading done before bed. I was in my room at the time, but I heard them come up the stairs so I went and said goodnight, and that was the last I saw of her. Apparently she was asleep by the time my Dad went to bed.

He was woken up at around ten to four with Mum hitting him. She was coughing really badly, like she couldn't breathe, and then she started coughing up blood as well, so he knew something was really wrong. He helped her to the bathroom so she could lean over the toilet while he phoned the ambulance, then he wrote me that note, and went back to hold her hand. He told me she looked so scared, like she was afraid of him leaving.

Ten minutes later, the ambulance had arrived. They carried her out, and my Dad stayed with her in the back while the paramedics did their best. By the time they arrived at the hospital, she was nearly gone. She was dead within the next twenty minutes.

I'm going to try and get my Dad to eat something. Neither of us have been able to eat. I've been forcing myself to drink water, because I know what'll happen if I don't. I made up a big jug of water earlier, and I put lemon slices in it to keep it fresh. Ever since Dad sat down, I've been refilling his glass every-so-often. I'll make rice. There's some basmati in the cupboard. Hopefully the smell will stimulate our appetites.

B texted me earlier, asking why I wasn't at college and if I was alright. I said I'd talk to them when I get back. I keep crying. It was so sudden. There wasn't any warning. Dad said the Doctors told him they thought it was a pulimonry embolism or something like that. Whatever it was, apparently it's a (tiny) risk when people are forced to stay off their feet.

I feel like this is just a bad dream, but I know it's not. I just can't believe she's gone so suddenly. The whole world's changed, just overnight. It's not good.

She's gone.

It can't be real.

I woke up at my six this morning for my run, but there was a note from my Dad on the inside of my door. It said that he'd had to take Mum to the hospital and not to worry. He'd try to phone me around half six. When I opened my door I noticed bloodstains on the carpet, here and there, mostly between my parents room and the bathroom, but some leading down the stairs as well. There was some on the walls too. I tried not to think about it while I was having breakfast. I was alone in the house. I didn't even notice that Liam wasn't there. Usually my parents would be sleeping upstairs, but they weren't there.

I tried waiting for the phone to ring, but I couldn't settle so I decided to start washing some of the blood stains out the carpet. It wasn't completely dry yet, so it came off quite easily. It was all mucusy, as well. I thought - I don't know. I didn't know. Oh no. Please no.

When the phone rang, I stared at it for a second before I picked it up. It was my Dad. He sounded shaken. He wasn't feeling right. He asked me if I was okay and I said I was. It was surreal. He told me to get the bus to the hospital and bring some change so he could get back too. I asked him what happened, and he said he'd talk to me when I got there. I asked him if Mum was alright. He refused to answer the question. There were a couple of false starts but eventually he just repeated what he said before. I think I knew then. I think I knew. Something bad. Really really bad. NO!

I have an mp3 player now. I bought it a few days ago. It's got my music on it. It played The War Of The Worlds. I stayed in a trance. Everything was so surreal. Martians walking around the city streets, burning people with the heat ray. I wasn't even listening to what was playing. I just stared at the destruction outside the bus windows. Nobody inside made a sound. They just got on and got off wherever they needed to be, running along through the panicked crowds. Sometimes I felt my eyes water, but the tears never released.

By the time I got to the hospital, the Martians had all but disappeared. There was one near the horizon, walking away. And I met my Dad inside. He told me what happened.

I'll tell you later. I think I need to go now. It's not - It's - I can't deal with this. She's gone and I can't get her back. She's gone. No! I want my Mum. I want my Mum. I want my Mum. She can't be gone! I need her to be here. I can't hold on any longer. I have to go.

I don't like the sound of this.

A boy went missing today. Well, I say a boy. They showed a picture of him on the news. He's sixteen, but he looks more like a nineteen-year-old. I don't know him, but I think my Mum might. As soon as his name was mentioned she gasped. Dad was cooking dinner at the time, though, so I'm the only one who heard it.

They said he was last seen in the area where my Mum works, but when I asked her if she knew him she said no. The look on her face said differently, though. I don't know why she would be trying to hide this. Maybe she's trying to protect us. They said that if anyone sees him they should approach with caution (and let the police know, of course).

It's a shame, she was beginning to brighten up, despite her cough getting worse (it's definitely hit her chest now, and she's started coughing up small amounts of catarrh).

I've not told Dad about my hunch - if Mum really does know the boy, then I'm sure she's got a good reason for denying it. Pete agrees with me, Susan doesn't. She said "She's obviously keeping secrets from us, you should just go and get the truth and not back down until you've got it.". She's been a bit stroppy lately, ever since we fell out, and I think she's trying to make me ruin myself again. It's not going to happen. Any time we've fallen out it's always been the same. She goes in a huff, mostly disappears for a week or two, then starts coming back every few days, trying to force me into saying/doing things I would regret, and eventually she calms down and lets me get on with things again. It's annoying, to say the least, and I wish she would just grow up. She'll never grow up though. Even if she keeps on getting older, she'll still represent that part of myself, long ago, that I've grown to despise.

Anyway, goodnight everyone. I've got a write-up due for tomorrow, and I'm not even a third the way through it.

My Mum's Birthday: Over-indulging, over-shooting, now over a footstool.

I mentioned very late last night (or possibly mid-afternoon for you) on someone else's blog that I'd just got back from the hospital. And you may remember that I was going out for my Mum's birthday.

Well, we went to the buffet, and I ate loads (but not as much as I was expecting, stupid ice cream filling me up!), and my parents laughed at the rate I was devouring the food (two full plates in ten minutes, I'll admit it's not my record). After my third plate my Dad advised me to switch to desserts so I didn't get bored, and THAT ICECREAM! I WILL MURDER IT IF I EVER SEE IT AGAIN! RRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAA! (How is it that ice cream is only ever filling when there's free refills?)

Anyway, after dinner, we were walking back to the car when my Mum slipped on the stairs and landed awkwardly on her ankle. She couldn't put any weight on it without yelping so we had to carry her back to the car (luckily it wasn't far). Dad drove us to the E&A and we were waiting for over an hour to be seen. The Doctor looked at it, prodded it, and then took an x-ray of it. It wasn't broken, thank goodness, but she had done a bit of damage to the ligaments. The Doctor said to take the week off work, and if it was still very painful by Friday she should go to the GP. Meanwhile, she should give it as much rest as possible, try to keep it elevated [I had to stop myself giggling at the word "elevate"], "and if it swells up you should wrap it in a bag of frozen peas" (yes, those really were her exact words).

So we got back at an insanely late hour and I nearly slept in for the bus this morning. Needless to say I'm a little fatigued. My Mum's quite fatigued too, but then that cold she has seems to be moving towards her chest. At least she won't have to take time off seperately if it does move down.

I had a bit of a run after I got home today, since I missed it this morning. I found a tree with a low branch so I tried some of those - oh, what are they called? - things where you grab onto a bar and lift yourself up then drop down again. I was a bit rubbish, but I think it's just the thing to increase my upper-body strength. It was raining, but I don't mind the rain. I've got a good coat, and I love being outdoors. It's a shame we won't be going hillwalking this weekend, but I've heard it's supposed to snow on Friday, so maybe we wouldn't be going out anyway. It's weird, last week it was a heatwave in September, now it's snow in October. What is the climate coming to?