After pain // Bakugou Katsuki

Week Six

It was rare to see my mother cry, only three times in my life. Once because our pet died, another because of a relative and the third time was because of today.

I was oblivious, walking down those stairs with my arms sprawled next to me and when I saw her face turn to me it was a shock. She's the strongest woman I know, strongest person and to see her broken terrified me. There's nothing I could do to help her, standing like the idiot I am whilst she turned back with an item next to her ear.

"Yes..." She whined. "I, I'll tell him."'

Tell me what? I wondered and soon regretted my curiosity. She stayed with her back to me, placing her phone down and I assumed that was the best I was going to get from her.

"Tell me what?" I asked.

"Jane. She's dead."

Ah, my mum's aunt. She had breathing relating issues so covid barged through her damaged lungs. No possibility of making it through and the fatal news hit my mother terribly. She began to sob again and instinctively, I take a step back and another. What am I doing? Why can't I get closer, instead behaving in the opposite way. I'm sure she needed a friend or something like comfort but like the bitch I was, I ended up leaving her alone, sat on my bed with my face in hands.

So she was dead. Never to be heard from again. I never got to know her well but she meant a great deal to my mother, especially when her sisters left her behind. She filled in the gaps and now it's a hole again.

Weird, it's weird because I'm more upset by the fact of what could have been than what did happen. Would we have gotten closer? Maybe visit my mother more. Maybe she would have been like a grandma to me. I won't know. It makes me feel a bit sad but I can't cry, only stare at the wall. It's not unusual for me to be out of touch with feeling, I barely do anymore. Mostly it's blank. Just lazily staring at the world until the next thing happens.

I should cry because someone's dead but it won't leave my body. I'm stuck. Unable to recognise my emotions. Gaps exist between how I used to feel. When did I last laugh, I can't remember.

With when I last cried, I remember it as it was only a few weeks back. Fiddling with a compass as I played it between my fingers, gradually getting faster until it ripped the side of my thumb. That made me cry, well the shock of pain. It's a permanent reminder, the scar that lays on my thumb, of the desperation I had to get other's to see me. It's not healthy, I know it's not at all. Even if it was out of concern, I was too desperate to be seen. I'm sure they are feeling better without me, I hope they do. They don't need to deal with my shit, they distanced themselves from me for a reason.

Here I go again, making it all about me. Have some fucking respect, a relative has passed. She was in her seventies so you could think she lived a fulfilling life. What really stood out about her to me was this cheap perfume she wore. Each time. An off brand flower hit my nose. Who knows where she brought it from but I'm glad the smell left with her. Shit, sorry. I sound like a right asshole. Not that you aren't one already. In all respect, the woman was nice when I saw her and put the effort in with my mum. What else can I say?

I feel strangely numb to it, like she isn't gone. Some part of me feels like she will be around and it was all a fucked up joke. Things are awkward enough as it is, I don't want to see my mother in such a state, it's uncomfortable. Sadly I have no where I can go which means I'll have to embrace her grief.

For weeks she cried, weeks. This woman who wasn't even there brought my mum such devastation and pain, blubbering over old memories? It didn't make sense. I struggled to understand why that would make her so upset. She wasn't that close to her, so why? She cried so much, not even bothering to keep it from me or my father. She was brought so such an extreme where it was like nothing mattered anymore.

I didn't feel anything after the first day of hearing the news, so on my end, it felt tiring. All I could do was wait, hoping she would feel better soon. The statistics reminded me of how that woman was one of thousands today -- so many people were dying. When it's at such a large scale, the people themselves don't become much. They all blend into an idea, their individuality gone. I might have been used to the disasters this virus brought so hearing a death of someone in my family wasn't too surprising. You grow to expect the worse. But it doesn't justify my lack of emotion. Regardless, it should still be upsetting but as time keeps going I find myself caring less and less. Where was it all going? I couldn't see the purpose in this, or anything.

What are we caring for? And why?

If someone is deceased, how would shedding tears bring them back or undo what has been done? My mum barely ate these last weeks out of grief. I doubt her cousin would want to have ever seen her like this. I never thought about it like this or about anything. With each passing day, I sit and realise things. Thinking. Knowing. I don't want to think anymore, I don't--

Is the truth really worth it?

Death is inevitable so why do we run from it? Are we only preventing the inevitable? It would be a longer sleep, right?

I slept with thoughts I never considered so much before, they were almost taking over the old ones. Replaced. My mind couldn't stop analysing or asking about death. It was a horrific feature of the unknown but it compelled me in a way where I was trapped in it, confined in the terror. Eventually, my mum will stop crying and maybe forget her, or I will. Whether they want to, they will move on... like my friends have.

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