Lost in our last Goodbye

A vast darkness, it’s been like this for years. 

The sound of wheezing fills up my imagination. A light switches on abruptly, illuminating her bed. 

Why do I keep coming back to this place
“Mamma,” I whisper and pause. 
My twelve year old self takes over,”Mamma, I am a scared.”
Only the coarse, whistling sound of her breath rising from the bed. 

My hand caresses the creases of the blanker. There I am beside her bed.
Again. 
The silence still holds the words:
“Terminally ill.”
This continuous beep has haunted me ever since. 

Night after night I suppressed the urge to climb in bed with her.
If only I could have rested my head in her forget-met-not pillowcase.  

Instead I quietly sang us to sleep under my own blanket. 
“Night night sweet child.
The stars are bright. 
You are the sun.
I am your moon. 

I remember how she got admitted to the hospital. 
Again, again and again. 
A storm was brewing, I could feel it in my bones. 

Then the phone rang, this awful Nokia tune.

Is this it? This is it. Eight years in the waiting. 
She spoke faster than I could handle. All I heard was the echoing of my own voice.

“You want to leave the hospital?”
“But what do the doctors say?”
 “I am on my way.”
“What do you mean no?”
“You have to do this alone?”

Alone. I didn’t know that words could burn this deep. 

All those sleepless night. 
My life on hold. 
I never left her side. 

“Alone”, the furniture starts whispering. 
Alone 
Alone

Alone, the voices in my head repeat. 

Keep it together, for mamma. 
But how?

I can barely breathe. 

The night comes and the walls close me in. 
Now it’s merel the darkness with this bed that won’t disappear. 
It cold and awfully quiet. 
I’ve been stuck in winter time. 
The clock has stopped ticking, 
eight years ago.

Who am I beyond caring? What is left when she is gone? I am twenty-one, barely breathing. This room is all I seem to know.

“Goodbye,

Goodbye, goodbye I mumble. 
Still no-oe to reply. 

I need a drink…
Yes, 
just one, 

one more 
Another
Why not open a bottle like mamma did when we were young?

“Stop hiding in the shadow.”
It’s a voice from deep within. 

“Who is taking care of you?”, says the voice now crystal clear?
“I am going to bed,” I reply not knowing where to look.
“No, you won’t, that’s the last thing you’ll do.”

This creature, half woman, crawls from under the bed. Her porcelain skin, her lips fiery red. Her eyes shine bright, all you can do is just stare.