Sweetened afterthought

2 • A Woman

"You never truly heal from loss, you simply learn to live with its burdening anguish"

• Briar Mendoza •

I don't really remember when I had truly lost my brother to the lifestyle of addicts, and to the ideologies of sadism and crime.

The ideas weren't new to me, they were simply just far-fetched in my eyes.

But if I were to pinpoint the date of his turning point and the unleashing of his sinful beings and demons, I would simply blame it on her death.

My "Mama's"

a resilient caring woman, a woman my brother solely depended on. The cracks in our parents' biased parenting were sourced from my mamas' prior infidelities with a man I had very little detail on.

It came to light soon after my mother gave birth to me, In an affair of warring hatred and disputes my father's attachment to my mama, was so undeniably unhealthy and sickly, that even if the woman had sliced away at his heart, bear-handed, he would simply kiss her calloused feet.

And it was for that reason my father saw not one fault in my mama, yet zeroed his hatred on her offspring, Blake. It was as if the amber burn of love in his heart died, yet relit with a Crimson flame once I was born. He replaced the hate for his firstborn with the cherishing love for his second.

I remember my childhood in small fragments, some images filled with love, some with guilt and pain. But it was through those small vivid pictures that her face was hardly displayed. My mama completely distanced herself from me. To the point where her love could only be questioned. She disregarded me, abandoned me and dispersed all her love and affection for my brother, coddling him with an undying love that my heart could only continuously break at the displays of admiration she had for him. I remember the joyous buzzes of his beautifully full and vibrant smiles and laughs he had for her.

My father had always been there for me, replacing the gnawing pain in my heart with his love, yet it was never hers.

After my father learned of my mama's infidelity, he locked her up in his palace, forbidding her from ever leaving, interacting with anybody or to even inhale a breath of fresh air. Her eyes instantly lost their vibrance and her skin only paled. Her smile diminished into a lifeless gape, and her warmth turned cold.

It was only in later days, mere moments before her death that my father's words and actions had rid her mad. On the brink of insanity. She would talk to herself constantly, switching between different tones, voices and emotions. As if her greatest monster clawed within her head.

Until, -

The monster took over. And the shell of an already detached, dead woman, rotted away.

On the day of her funeral, my father flew us out to America, My mamas dying wish to be reunited with her home soil. To a place she had always longed to revisit, however, my father forbade it.

My eyes brimmed with contempt for my father that day. Her coffin was splayed in ruby red roses and flocked with wailing cries and pains, everybody cried.

Except me.

I watched as her body lowered into the bottomless pit of soil, I watched as the men heaped piles of dirt onto her resting bed. I drowned out my father's last words to the woman he hated to let go of.

My brother was so young, fickle almost with his boyish and young emotions, a battle rambled in his head that day, he got lost, I could see it in his eyes as if the world and all its vibrancy dissipated. He was never the brother I knew from prior days.