Lost

Consciousness wakes me but I dare not open my eyes. That dread of the morning has become so familiar. That dread of the desolation inside me. A pit of unrelenting, eternal despair. Sleep used to bring me solace. It is now my nemesis. For it torments me. And when I wake, the torment refuses to cease. There is no respite from this grief. Each morning, I face it again. And again. And again. I open my eyes with the futile, fleeting hope that she will be there. I listen for her voice. For a sound from downstairs. A sign that she is still here. This interminable grief tears me apart. Another day without my mum. I try to silence my mind; a mind which reaches into the future and continually reminds me that I face my life without her. No, thank you. I don’t want that. I’ve had enough now. Send her back to me please. My futile, ridiculous plea.

Since my mum died, my world has become a place of absolute darkness. Absolute despair. A pain which is nameless. It cannot be explained. A monster which consumes my every waking moment. I have no hope. I refuse to face a future without her for a future without her is no life. Yet there is no choice. I try to change it in my head but reality mocks me. And I am alone.

I lie in bed and the darkness intensifies. I force myself to get up. The paradox being that the thing I now fear most is the one thing that saves me every day; life. I exist somewhere between life and death; a world I don’t know. A world I hate. A world which spins around me and hurls me into confusion and loneliness. Absolute loneliness. I am living my greatest fear. I am lost. I am empty.

I open the curtains and sunlight sears my face. This sunlight is my friend yet I no longer feel its warmth. My mind switches back to my mum. Everything reminds me of her. Everything. The sound of the birds. The sunlight. Everything I loved has gone. The spring morning attempts to comfort me. I fall. And I cry. I am broken.

That feeling hits me in my chest yet again and moves down towards my stomach. And sits there refusing to leave my body; that inexplicable feeling that has no words. No definition. I take a deep breath through my nose and I sit with it for I cannot escape it. Images of my mum in my head. Her voice. Comfort. And reality hits again.

I refuse to believe my mum would leave me. I sit and I close my eyes. I reach out and wait. Waiting for a sign. A message. Something. My solace is knowing that she is in a good place. She is happy, free and at peace with the ones she loves. Maybe I am selfish for wanting her back on this earth. And I cry. I cry for her. And I cry for myself.

A movement catches my eye. I look down and see a dark sphere. Life. Mum! I bring myself back to my senses, chastising myself for my denied wish. I focus on the shape and recognise a large bee which rolls onto its back. Dead. My heart breaks for this tiny being whose only desire is to live. My fear of insects inexplicably disappears, replaced by a higher power. As I prepare to dispose of this dead creature, I notice life. It is fighting. Fighting to stay alive. Fighting for a privilege for which I refuse to feel gratitude. I feel a pang of shame. My new found courage has not completely defeated my fear and so, unable to pick it up in my hands, I manage to manoeuvre it onto a piece of paper and take it into the garden. I place it on a flower. My heart lifts as the bee regains its life force and settles into the flower. I watch it for a while. I feel peace. I feel hope. I feel the sanctity of life. I turn to make my way back inside. And sitting next to the door frame is a beautiful robin. A robin watching me and I feel its approval. And I feel its love. Its happiness. I smile as it looks at me unflinching, knowing, wise. I am enveloped by its peace and its warmth. I feel its pride. And I say to it, “I love you, mum.”