I arrive at the front door of the house at 11.27 AM. I stand parallel to it, already being about to feel the different atmosphere that was alive on the other side of the door, an energy radiating from it that was clearly contrasting the one that was prominent just hours before.
I spend the longest time contemplating whether I should barge in and get this over and done with, or act in a courteous manner and knock, considering that this house was not my home. I involuntarily walk into the house, my body deciding what to do as my mind was erratic and running at one hundred miles an hour. I take in my surroundings, focusing on small details to occupy my mind. However, dismissal of the topic was no longer an option as I could sense how it was no longer avoidable; in minutes, seconds, I would see my mother and find out about this secret she has kept from me for God knows how long.
Just as my internal thoughts concluded, Gregg emerges from a room situated right of the living room that we were in hours before. His face held the same expression that I left him with, only now it had intensified. I could only associate it with anxiety and pain, two things that seemed fitting for the current situation.
"She's up", he informs me, simultaneously raising his shoulders, pitch of voice and eyebrows, obviously trying to lighten the atmosphere that was undeniably suffocating.
He walks towards me, catching my attention from my wondering thoughts. His right hand appears on my shoulder and he gives it a tight squeeze, showing me encouragement. Gregg and I never developed any sort of relationship because I wouldn't allow it, and in any other situation I would have told him to get the fuck off me, but this time was an exception. Reassurance was something that I didn't know I needed, but most definitely needed right now, and I was thankful to him for being so supportive even though I have acted in the most disrespectful ways to him in the past.
I awkwardly stepped away from him to end the moment he thought we were having. As thankful as I was for his support, my mother's illness was not going to be something that binds the family or strengthened bonds that did not exist. Since I moved to Indiana, I lived life external to this family.
"Are you ready to go see her, Dean? I haven't told her about you, just like you asked".
"Is she.. in.. there?", I ask him, jerking my head in the direction of the door he exited moments ago and avoiding his question due to the fact that I didn't have a definite answer for him.
"Yeah, she's in there", he quietly replies, looking at the floor while doing so. I suspect that me being civil towards him in this type of situation after years of either ignoring or blowing up at him over the smallest issues confuses him and sets him back, but his opinion of me is the least of my concerns. His hushed tone conveys his exhaustion and I can't help but pity the man as I guess that this is not the future he envisioned for himself.
I didn't reply to him, instead I started walking towards the door that opened the room to where my mother was. My mind began recalling previous images of my mother, from various times of my life. I can clearly picture her rich, dark brown - almost black looking - shoulder length hair, her emerald green eyes and her naturally bronzed skin. I momentarily closed my eyes and consumed a large breath of air, as if I'm attempting to consume myself in my memories.
As I open my eyes, a lifeless figure appears in front of me, laying in the centre of the double-bed positioned parallel to the door I was suddenly in front of. The vivid image of my mother fades and is replaced with the paler, more vulnerable and weaker person.
"Mum..", I whisper. It was so quiet that I believed it had been removed from the room, leaving alongside the air that exited the window on the far right of the room. But I was wrong, she heard me.
Her eyes open, and she lifts her head from its leaning position. It takes her a moment to focus on me and recognise who I am, but as soon as she does, an unreadable expression takes over her features. She looks between Gregg and I, attempting to piece together the situation.
"Dean? Dean, sweetheart, is that really you?" She asks, her gaze focused solely on my figure as mine was on hers. She was attempting to sit further up on the bed, but was failing as her now-thin arms were giving way under the weight of her upper body.
Gregg realised this as I did, and he appears from behind me, rushing to assist my mother in sitting up against the headboard of the bed. Gregg had seemed to forget about my presence in this moment, focusing on helping my mother and ensuring that she was okay. My mother, on the other hand, seemed to only focus on me and was not concerned by what Gregg was saying or doing. He stepped back as soon as my mother muttered that everything was alright under her breath.
"Dean, I..", she breaths, flailing to find suitable words.
Suddenly I couldn't take it, any of it. I could no longer take in the lifeless body my mother possessed, I couldn't accept that I could no longer remember what she looked like before this moment. I couldn't take the pity in their eyes, the tense atmosphere that surrounded the room., the stark contrasts between my memories and this reality.
Before I knew it, I had left. I was out of the room and I had slammed the door behind me.
The last thing that I heard before running down the street was the loud sobs that belonged to my mother.
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I hope everyone is enjoying this so far!!
