suacide
angel
- Sep 13, 2023
- 30
Ever since my mom passed away in May, I've not been able to stop thinking about her. About all the big and little things. About how nice she really became once she managed through her demons and mental illness that caused her to do everything she did. She didn't ever become perfect, but I don't know how you'd ever expect that from a person who's been through as much as she did. How even though we had a rough relationship, she really loved me. She would always say yes to my silly ideas, suggestions, anything I brought up on a whim in the later years, and from time to time when I was a kid too during probably the worst years of both her and I's lives. Even if she was awful to me sometimes, looking back I see the woman she wanted to be in there too, and I mourn so much more than just her life now. I mourn what I've foresaken and was unable to see, what could've been. The mother that could've still been around to watch me become the age she was when she had me, but that'll never happen now.
I never really got to know her. Not from her at least. It's weird, suddenly I know all these things about her from people I've never met only after she's gone. How she was an au pair, how she loved the dog that lived in that house, how my father had nothing but she loved him for the freedom he gave her despite coming from a rich family. How she struggled with things just like me when she was my age. Had the same things happen to her. How she cried when she found out what happened to me. I'm just left with answers for questions I never asked, and it all hurts.
I want to be small again. I want to be able to look up at her one more time. I want to ask her who she really was, how she felt at my age, what her hobbies were, if she felt lonely even when surrounded by people too, what passion did she leave behind in order to settle for something more realistic, what her pet peeves were, first love - just, anything and everything. I want to know it all, but now I never will. How do people live on with this feeling?
And here's comes the title relevant part of how I feel. Usually every new years, no matter what, we had a little ritual. We'd go to London together, share a meal, eat a slice of cake from one of the Asian bakeries and we'd watch the fireworks in Trafalgar square or somewhere near the London eye. Usually we ended up arguing a bit on the way home. Her feet got tried from walking and I stubbornly didn't wanna pay those guys that cycle you around and upcharge you as much as humanly possible. But at the end of the day after some silly shenanigans like having to hop a fence, me carrying her over one two years ago in particular, we'd end up smiling, laughing. It was a good time. The best times.
And now this year, I can't do it with her for the first time. She's gone. Yet I feel like I still have to do it, I just wish I didn't have to do it alone. I wish I had someone close to me, someone who could appreciate the moment and what it meant. I'd even settle for a stranger. I just don't want to be alone. But I know better, the world isn't going to hand me mercy or kindness. If it was going to do that, it wouldn't have made my mother's treatment fail.
I don't even know what I'm gonna do after that. A part of me feels like flinging myself off the bridge head first, but the thought of scarring so many people… I could never do that. Another part of me thinks about peacefully ending things once I get home or doing it before the new years so I don't have to experience a year she's not in it. Another wants to wait until the day my mom died to do it and hope by some invisible metric that would somehow make me go to wherever she ended up. Another wants to live, but has ran out of reasons or excuses not to go through with it. I feel doomed. I have nothing if I don't have her. I just want to be held with that same platonic love of hers. To be cherished and cherish without filth or bad intentions or horrible people that want to hurt me. Even if it were just for a day it'd be okay. I just want to feel like I'm part of something and that the world wants me to live, just for one day.
I never really got to know her. Not from her at least. It's weird, suddenly I know all these things about her from people I've never met only after she's gone. How she was an au pair, how she loved the dog that lived in that house, how my father had nothing but she loved him for the freedom he gave her despite coming from a rich family. How she struggled with things just like me when she was my age. Had the same things happen to her. How she cried when she found out what happened to me. I'm just left with answers for questions I never asked, and it all hurts.
I want to be small again. I want to be able to look up at her one more time. I want to ask her who she really was, how she felt at my age, what her hobbies were, if she felt lonely even when surrounded by people too, what passion did she leave behind in order to settle for something more realistic, what her pet peeves were, first love - just, anything and everything. I want to know it all, but now I never will. How do people live on with this feeling?
And here's comes the title relevant part of how I feel. Usually every new years, no matter what, we had a little ritual. We'd go to London together, share a meal, eat a slice of cake from one of the Asian bakeries and we'd watch the fireworks in Trafalgar square or somewhere near the London eye. Usually we ended up arguing a bit on the way home. Her feet got tried from walking and I stubbornly didn't wanna pay those guys that cycle you around and upcharge you as much as humanly possible. But at the end of the day after some silly shenanigans like having to hop a fence, me carrying her over one two years ago in particular, we'd end up smiling, laughing. It was a good time. The best times.
And now this year, I can't do it with her for the first time. She's gone. Yet I feel like I still have to do it, I just wish I didn't have to do it alone. I wish I had someone close to me, someone who could appreciate the moment and what it meant. I'd even settle for a stranger. I just don't want to be alone. But I know better, the world isn't going to hand me mercy or kindness. If it was going to do that, it wouldn't have made my mother's treatment fail.
I don't even know what I'm gonna do after that. A part of me feels like flinging myself off the bridge head first, but the thought of scarring so many people… I could never do that. Another part of me thinks about peacefully ending things once I get home or doing it before the new years so I don't have to experience a year she's not in it. Another wants to wait until the day my mom died to do it and hope by some invisible metric that would somehow make me go to wherever she ended up. Another wants to live, but has ran out of reasons or excuses not to go through with it. I feel doomed. I have nothing if I don't have her. I just want to be held with that same platonic love of hers. To be cherished and cherish without filth or bad intentions or horrible people that want to hurt me. Even if it were just for a day it'd be okay. I just want to feel like I'm part of something and that the world wants me to live, just for one day.
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