My mum died when I was young, twenty-five days old to be exact. She was sick, and not of cancer but another terminal illness, love. She had overdosed years before on a man, a man that isn't my dad. His name was Keenan.
My parents married months before I was born and I thought they loved each other. My dad loved her, but she didn't love him back, though she said she did. She loved a man whom was no longer here, he died at war. She spoke with such beauty and integrity about him. My dad tells me, "When you were born, your mum loved you so much and she was so happy." If she was happy, would she have killed herself? Why love me, and then leave me? My dad curses frequently, blaming me for why my mother left. Apparently she left because I'm the child she wanted, but with the wrong man. Sometimes, I hate this Keenan guy too, because he's the reason she left, to hopefully regain that love in an afterlife of some sort.
My mum wrote before she decided to take her step. She didn't leave a note but it somewhat explained why she left, I found the entry a couple of years ago, when my stepmother, Kayla, moved in. I had to collect everything I want of mums and the rest would be thrown out. Kayla hates my mother; apparently Keenan was stolen from her. Kayla had him first, sometimes I wonder if the only reason she is with dad is because mum had her first.
My mum told my dad to move on because I needed a mother figure. I just need my mum; Kayla is not a mother figure at all. I read entries from the journal and how horrible Kayla was to my mum, but "that's all in the past, and she was young and stupid"; I was supposed to learn about love and believed that it exists. Kayla and my father, is not an example of that. I do believe it for the fact that my mum died to be with Keenan. The love of her life died, and 10 years later without any contact with him whatsoever, she still managed to love him.
I look like my mum and dad, I have the dark hair like her and my grandma but instead I have my dad's blue eyes, they're like little balls of sapphire. Blue like an ocean, an ocean that holds the liability to take my mother away with an anchor. Lucas got a boat after the tragic incident and called it, "Alyx" which is horrible because why would you associate a boat with someone whom drowned? My dad was at work when she lied in the bath; he got home a few hours later and heard me crying. He shouted for my mother but got no reply and barged through the bathroom door and got her out. She was long gone and didn't bother with calling an ambulance.
I no longer live with dad though; I can't stand being in the same house with a woman who talks badly about my mother. Dad kicked me out because he loves her and that I shouldn't even bring up anything about my mother again. He says he hates her, that she lied about loving him. I now live with my mum's sister, Diana and her husband, Jeremiah. I'm fifteen with scars running up and down my forearm. I now take my mums last name, Lima.
It's hard living without her, especially when my father wants nothing to do with me. For a while, he had photos of her all over the walls and it made him cry. He was angry at the world for a long time before Kayla came along, and she poured fuel to the flames. It drove him off edge. He took me out of his life. I don't blame her for leaving; I mean sometimes I contemplate doing the same. I only knew her for 25 short days but I know she is the type of person I want to be. I want to love the way she did. I thank Keenan for helping her find herself within their relationship.
Her entries are on my wall and I watch the pen marks go through the paper. I see how the paper creases and folds. There are small tear marks on the papers. Her last entry is steady though, calm. All in one flowing print. The black ink bleeds onto the paper as the letters curve. She begged for this. I constantly view photos of her, and listen to the way they describe my mother and her beauty. I try to seek similarities between her and myself. The way our dark hair frames our faces or how our posture is delicate and graceful. Possibly the way our hands shake when others try to show us affection.
I'm Jamie Keenan, named after my mum's true love. Dad used to think that I was the reincarnated version of Keenan. I'm sick too and not because of love, but because I don't know where to look for it anymore.
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