I can remember the last time i saw my mother, the memory is permanently ingrained in my head. I was only just gone eighteen when it happened, a week before i was to start my senior year in school. it was a year and a half since my father had died in a tragic car accident which left me temporally in a wheelchair and took my father from us. It didn't take long for the stress and grief to turn my mother to alcohol and drugs.
It took me over a year to finally be able to walk on my own again and then that is when the beatings started. She blamed me for taking her husband from her, she told me many times of how it should have been me that died. The woman i called my mother slowly started to lose her mind and mix that into the drug abuse and you have a deadly combination. she took her anger out on me, i was strong enough to easily stop her or even fight back but i can say i never once laid a hand against my mother. When you are told something so often you do eventually start to believe it and that's what happened to me, i began to blame myself coming up with ways that i could have prevented it all and with that i thought i deserved the beating she would give.
The place i once called my home was falling apart and stood empty except for a few items that mother hadn't sold for drug money. there was no food in the house, the beds and all the other furniture was gone and replaced with nothingness just so she could have her drugs and who was i to stop her, only the person who had destroyed her life.
My uncle lived at the other side of the country, he knew of the drug and alcohol abuse and the fact that we had nothing left. He set up a bank account in my name and sent me money so i could support the both of us after things really took a turn for the worst. I kept him and the rest of the family in the dark about how bad things really were, they didn't need to be brought down because of my inability to fix the mess i had created.
On this Wednesday morning i woke to the sound of the doorbell. There wasn't a hope that my mother would get it as she was more than likely passed out somewhere in the house. I dragged myself down stairs to open the door and see my uncle standing there with three men with him and a
woman. The three men were dressed in white uniforms with some kind of symbol on the front while the woman was dressed quite smartly in business clothes. Before i could even utter a word the three men pushed passed me into the house and started searching, for what i didn't know.
'what's going on?' i asked to facing my uncle again.
'Derek why didn't you tell me how bad things really were?'
I just stared back at my uncle, what could i say, that i was embarrassed? or that it didn't matter because its what i deserve? Then the sound of my mother screaming and crying filled our ears. Two of the men were half dragging and half carrying her towards the front door. As soon as she saw me anger and hate took over her and she managed to breaak free of the two men and ran at me. She managed to hit me across the face one last time before the men had a hold of her again. 'This is all your fault' she screeamed at me as they carried her out of the house and into a large van.
That was five years ago and now i find myself standing outside Clear Springs rehab facility. I wasn't really sure why i was here, it was the closest i had been to the woman i had once called my mother since the day she had been taken away. Clear Springs was the latest place to try and 'fix' my mother as all the others had failed.
The closer i came to the building the more awful memories flashed through my mind of how things had been.
The middle aged woman behind the reception desk pointed me in the direction of her room and i strode to the door before i could chicken out. i knocked on the door and when i heard a faint 'come in' i pushed open the door slowly. The room was plain to say the least, beige walls and a few pieces of furniture scattered around the small room.
A woman i could barely recognise sat in a chair by the window just staring out. Her once long shiny black hair hung ragged and greasy down her back, her blue eyes dull and lifeless stared back at me as i took her in. She looked much older than the forty six that she was but i guess thats what drugs and alcohol does to you.
I sat in the chair across from her and we both just sat taking each other in. 'Mother, how have you been?' i started. She continued to stare at me before replying 'what are you doing here?'
'I came to see you' was my only reply.
'Why? i don't want you here, your the reason i'm stuck in here!' she shouted at me. i chose to ignore her dig at me before saying 'i wanted to see you, its been so long. i wanted to know how you've been?'
She jumped from her chair glaring at me 'how dare you say that you want to see me, i don't want to see you! you should be dead, i wish you were dead!...'
'Mother please...'
'I am not your mother! get out, get out now! I never want to see you again!' she screamed pointing at the door for me to leave. I walked out the door and just before shutting it whispered ' goodbye mother'
ONE WEEK LATER.
I stood in the graveyard infront of the fresh grave. The burial ended over an hour ago but i still stood here in the bitter cold as the rain soaked into my clothes. i stared at the ground at my mothers grave ignoring everything around me. The funeral wasn't big, just a few family and friends of my parents from before my father died. Most people didn't want to associate with us because of my mothers behaviour, especially when you add suicide to the mix. Thats right, she committed suicide. Just hours after i had left i got the phone call with the news. it took a few days for them to release the body and to confirm that it was an over dose.
I wasn't sure if i was sad or happy for her that she may have finally found peace away from all her grief, maybe it was a bit of both.
I whispered a final 'goodbye' as i turned and left to start my life away from the memories of my father and the abuse of my mother.
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