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I visited her grave for the first time

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I visited her grave for the first time.

The sky was blackening, intending for an upcoming downpour. The wind was whistling between the trees and tombstones, playing with the hem of my coat in the process. In short, it was a gloomy day, suitable for a grim event. I had never been to a graveyard, simply because I didn’t have anyone to visit.

Months before, I would’ve never imagined being in that dreadful place with my eyes barely succeeding to hold in the tears. No, I wouldn’t cry out of sorrow only. I was confused, disappointed and feeling unwanted by the person I lived my whole life with. She left me without the care to say goodbye, leaving me in unhealthy doubts about myself.

I couldn’t bring myself to visit her earlier. Despite the recent events in my life, I was holding on... just fine. Frankly, every other issue I had was a distraction from remembering what she did. I had slow but sure progress of moving on, but if I were to visit her and invite the bitter memories back in my mind, my progression would shatter. I liked to think of myself as strong, but I was only human in the end.

I crouched down by her tombstone and laid down the flowers I brought. My thumb caressed the letters of her engraved name. Ella Addams.

“You lied to me,” I spat. I felt bad afterwards because I was in a graveyard yet held a judgemental attitude. I wasn’t the God who would punish her for her deeds. “The mail you left doesn’t explain enough as to what was on your head when you sacrificed a baby to gain some cash.”

It came to me that maybe I wasn’t sad about Mum’s death anymore; I was angry. She had a hand in the misery we lived in—it wasn’t all Sebastian Martinez’s fault. She could’ve avoided it all, but no, she ventured to have a baby solely to gain money. It hit me then that not only was I an illegitimate child, but I wasn’t also brought to life with love and excitement. I didn’t have parents who were excited to meet me and hold my tiny hands. I was merely brought to be used as an object.

The moment Mum’s plans didn’t work… She was probably cursing her luck. Cursing me.

“My world revolved around you, around us, our living, our bond, but your world revolved around money. There were nights after your death I couldn’t sleep from the nightmares, Mum.”

My body shook with another whistle of the wind. Or maybe because of rage, or a cry I tried to hold back.

“Despite our hard circumstances, I was happy with you, Mum, but you chose to break me.” I looked up to the sky. “Could your soul watch me suffer in sleepless nights and endless weeping?” My hands fisted my coat. “But I still miss you. I miss your gentle touch that swept my hair away to lay a kiss on my forehead. I miss you braiding my hair. I miss your homemade food. I-I miss…” my voice cracked at the end.

I looked up to the sky again. It was getting even darker, reflecting my mood. I felt lonely among the countless souls around me. Maybe the chill I felt often was caused by them passing by, reprimanding me for the way I talked to a dead person, who could no more fix anything. They thought I was a bad daughter.

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