How Did We Get Here?

I hate empty hospital beds; they signify death, finality, uncertainty, and the thief that robbed me of a mother’s love at only age 13. 12th September 2008 at 10am was the exact moment my life took a 360-degree turn.

A flask full of her favourite porridge in hand, hopeful eyes and legs that could not wait to see her mama, I quickly rushed to her ward, were i left her warmly tucked in, only to be met by an empty bed. The bathroom door was open while calling her. I headed to the bathroom, only to be told that she had been referred to another hospital due to a complication.

In other words, your mum is dead, but I just don’t have the balls to tell you. If you’re in healthcare, please never do this to a child. 18 years later, there is still that tiny hope that she is still here with me. Everyone followed the damn script.

Come to think of it, no one has ever told me that your mum is gone, dead, never to be seen again. How did I come to know? A slip of tongue from one of her friends who called crying and asking about the funeral arrangement, she didn’t know I was on the receiving end…

What followed was a series of being moved from one relative’s home to another. A couple of losses as well, every loss made away with a chip of my identity. I had to learn how to be the smallest and the silent one in the room to belong. And that, my dear readers, is how we got here.

See You Soon.