FUCK!

8. MOM

After the phone call, Shar looked at me and having been friends for so long, she immediately knew something was wrong. She pulled me into her arms and I hugged her back and said, "She's gone Shar."
So Shar drove us. We didn't have to fight about it this time. It would have been a nice little distraction, but the situation made the air tense. I wish it had been Noah, regardless of the news of an apparent sexually transmitted infection. I would have accepted syphilis.

The ride was long. I think I prolonged it in my head because I wasn't ready. The sky was filled with clouds. It has been gloomy, with overcast clouds and partial drizzle these past few weeks. I should have taken it as a sign. The universe is forever showing us signs.
When we arrived at the hospital, I was a few minutes late. 33 minutes to be exact. She was still on her bed. She was in the same position I had become accustomed to for the past months. Only this time she seemed more grey, than usual. A sign that her heart had finally stopped beating and her body had just started eating itself inside out.
I didn't cry when I saw her. Knowing she was dying all along hurt more, but somehow I was prepared. I know all of us are dying, but with her, it felt as if I was tied down to a chair and had to watch her life on fast forward.

She's always been my role model and someone who I'll forever look up to and yes at first I resented her for not being strong enough to get her life together after my father's departure, but life was never easy for her from the start. And if having been thrown a curveball such as my father amongst everything, personally I would have never survived. I genuinely would have killed him.
In the end, she fought with all she had and she'll forever be the strongest person I have ever met. But sometimes even the strongest have to throw in the towel. And she did. Peacefully, in her sleep.

"The irony, right," I raise the cigarette in my hand at Tim as he joins me by the balcony of our apartment.

"No," he says leaning against the wall, next to me, "everyone has their ways."

He takes the cigarette out of my hand and lifts it to his mouth, "Careful Theresa doesn't see you."

He chuckles and lifts it again to his lips before handing it back.
My mom would have hated me right now. Having spent half her life in and out of the hospital because of pneumonia, you'd think the last thing I'd do is kill my lungs first.
But I had to walk out. I felt as if everyone was looking at me. Everyone thought that mentioning our similarities would make me laugh. It's too soon for me to laugh and admire how much I look like my mother. Maybe in the future, as I stare down at a mirror and reminisce.
Some only brought it up because they didn't actually know her and it's the only thing they could conjure up to say after looking at her picture. I'm sure if I was to tell them that I came out of her beforehand, they'd have been surprised.

Death isn't just easy, it's lonely and I think everyone understands that because we've all experienced it in some way big or small. So people comfort you and try to be around you. But then everyone seems to forget that beyond that it's also complicated and claustrophobic and tiring. Everyone grieves differently and I for certain enjoy solitude. Sometimes I'll forget and I'll be laughing with friends, but then someone will unconsciously walk up to me to offer their condolences and then it'll hit me all over.
The sympathetic looks are the worst. Especially when I'm crying. I don't cry for sympathy or empathy, I've heard all your well wishes and thoughts of concern and goodwill.

I cry because I miss her.

"Your dad didn't come," Tim says it as more of a statement rather than a question.

"None of my mom's family is even here. They couldn't make it. Just May and I," I throw the cigarette onto the ground and step on it, "It would have been insulting if he came. I'm glad he didn't come."

May came. With her child in hand too. The only surprise was that she didn't bring her baby's father, just to wind me up. We talked for a bit. Ultimately we both knew mom's death would bring us closer. Even though temporarily. My niece's name is Carmen. Would have never been my first choice between all the names to name a child, but I never had a say there, to begin with. She's lovely, to say the least. I even held her for a bit. Hardly cries. She drools a lot though, so I gave her back.

We walk back into the apartment, just as some people start leaving. They wave goodbye and are out of the door. I smile at all of them, genuinely. I've been standing and accepting apologies and sympathetic looks for an entire day. I want everyone to leave and I hardly have it in me to kick anyone out, but I want to be alone. I want to lock myself in my room and curl up into a ball under the blankets and just fucking sleep.

"What is this?" I turn my head towards Sharice's voice just as another guest waves goodbye to me.

"I'm speaking to, Theresa."

"And I'm speaking to you," Shar responds looking at Mel, Jona's girlfriend.

"Excuse me?" Mel says with a squeck.

"You guys are disgusting. I heard what you both said and Theresa you're too short and ugly to be a bully," Shar screams, "but you're trying and that's really cute. Now fuck off."

I leave Tim and run towards Sharice. I pull her by her hand into a corner, "What was that about?" I ask.

She doesn't reply and sighs, "Well this is a funeral," I continue, "so please control yourself or take it outside."

I feel bad for outing Shar right now and whatever the reasoning behind her outburst, I know it's validated, but I have too much on my plate now and the last thing I need is Theresa and Mel fighting during my mom's funeral.

Shar would win. Just so we're clear.

As the sun sets on another day in my regular life, so does everyone. By the end, it's just Tim and I cleaning everything up. This is the loneliness I was talking about. Shar isn't here right now. I don't blame her. I couldn't exactly kick Theresa and Mel out, but then again, they also left.

"You want another smoke?" Tim pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his trousers and throws them at me.

The pack hits me on my forehead just as I start laughing. I pick the pack up and stare at it, "Wait until Theresa gets hold of them. I'm not ready for another funeral," I say looking at him.

He shakes his head, "She won't control this part of my life," he points at me and then back at him.

The sunset from our balcony is beautiful. We had to drag two bean bags since we broke our chairs, but we made it in time. The city is quiet. Almost as if it's in mourning with me, but I know it's because it's a Sunday. Everyone is nursing a hangover.
My mom loved Sundays. She always tried to have some sort of family time on Sundays. I knew she'd want to finally say goodbye to everyone today. It was perfect. I lost her, it was inevitable, but I'm not sad about how everything else fell into place. 

"Oh dear," Tim says inhaling his second daily dose of a nicotine stick, "how did we get here?" he asks and from where I am sitting I don't know what he's mentioning too. My mom dying or us.

 I'm too tired to comprehend and his voice didn't give anything away that would help my assumption either. I sigh and tell him I don't know. I really don't know how we ended up here and the more I think about the question, the more I realise how unhappy I am. I love my friends. Some more than others and on different levels, but I love them all, but I could be happier. I never think about the future, because I'm scared of what it actually entails. I like my job, I could love it, but sadly I don't. I don't see myself nursing the elderly and being constantly surrounded by death until I retire and be happy.
And I used to be happy. When I met Tim and Shar and Jona and everyone else, I was happy. My life wasn't as complicated as it has gotten and I can blame a lot of it on rent and being a grown-up with taxes, but I used to be happy. I didn't want to sleep all the time nor did I want to spend the majority of my time in my room watching series and later on drowning all my thoughts in beer at the local pub.
Their beer isn't even nice.

"Would you go back?" my emotions get the better of me and before I can register, the one question I never thought would come out of my mouth does, "to how things used to be? Just the five of us. You, I, Shar, Jona, even Marvin?"

He looks into my eyes and answers in a deadbeat, "Yes."

I nod and swallow the lump in my throat as a tear falls down my face, "Yeah, me too."