When I got home, my mother was crying softly in the kitchen. I wanted to ask why, but I knew she wouldn't tell me. She's not the type of person to easily express her feelings to just anyone. Now I'm not saying I'm not special to her, because I know that significantly, I am.
I'm her daughter, I must mean heaps to her. And she's my mother, of course I love her more than anything in the world. Oh god, I can't stand her crying like this, not when I know she's sad.
I walk in to my room, put my stuff on my bed and fall purposely onto my bead. Should I ask her if she's okay?
Leaving my thought there, she comes in to my room.
"Jaz..." she says in a gentle, sad tone, wiping her eyes with a small tissue.
"Yes what's wrong?!" I say, acting as if I hadn't realised her tears.
She sits herself down on the bed, and hugs me tight.
It's a warm hug and it's genuine.
"Yes, whats wrong?"
Tears fill her eyes again and she leans on me, scrunching her hands in my jacket.
"I don't know how to say this, to my own daughter, but" she stopped there, held her breath and kept speaking.
"I'm not going to be here much longer for you" she balls. Im confused and heart wrenched, but she keeps talking, and for the first time in what feels like years,
I cry. I cry and cry and cry.
Cancer.
The body's bully.
Something that can't really be remidied through time.
It's a sickness that doesn't really hold a meaning or cause.
It hurts to accept it, and it drowns you to endure it. even if it isn't you, or anyone you even know. It hurts to know that someone is in pain that they can't remedy.
My mother was diagnosed with a rare form of a Thymona tumor cancer. It's quite uncommon, but it's rare for someone to get it for no reason. My mother found out when she went to the doctors to report herself of severe chest pains and dysphagia (hard to swallow).
The tumor has been growing for quite a long time and she can't afford chemotherapy.
Neither can I.
Even if she gets Chemo, there's only a 35% chance of living.
I didn't ask how long she has left, because I didn't want her to cry or worry any more than she was.
I cry for the rest of that night,
without my mum knowing I was.
Why did she of all beings in this huge, wide range of people get picked specifically.
At 12am,
Nathan sends me a text.
"I was just thinking about you."
it reads. I blush.
He sends another
"and your name, it really suits you. Jaz"
The vibration of my phone gives me a rush of adrenaline.
I don't see how it suits me, It sounds like I want to run around and dance, but right now I so don't.
"I mean, if you see the definition. Jaz (spelt jazz) is a form of music, that's supposed to make your heart rush and dance"
I reread those words in my head.
heart.
rush.
music.
"it's really adorable, too."
And I know what happens next. Don't say it.
Please, don't waste it.
"Like you."
my bury my head into the Palms of my hands, and cry all over again.
The adrenaline from before simply just escaped. The apparent 'rush' in my heart, is full of grief and, yet, I still don't know what I'm going to do,
or how I'll tell them about it all.
The girl, unable to speak,
sinking willfully in the sea,
no idea where she's headed,
except for the bottom of the ocean,
oh when,
when will anyone find me?
Will anyone find me?
Sunk into a sea of grief, it's a bother to even open my eyes
And thus I'll be, endlessly falling - but won't anyone find me?
Where am I headed, what am I to do? Suddenly, a beam of light shone through
I stuck out my hand, and seemed to reach, but it was carried out of sight by the waves
Just what was that, I wondered, so warm and dazzling?
An unconscious counter-illumination
The deep-sea girl, sinking ever still,
Shut away beyond the darkness
The deep-sea girl, she yet wants to know,
Because she's found the one who captivates her heart...
And when that person finally leaves,
she believes she is all alone,
but isn't that how every story ends?,
or is that where thus another, begins?
