Poem #016: The One That Left...
15 years ago to this day was the time you left our lives. I didnāt know Iād never see you again, never got to say goodbye. Life cut short at forty-eight, fate can be a cruel mistress. I didnāt ask why or react at first, before by delayed-reaction my tears burst. My dad wrapped arms around and wept.
You walked out of life with calm reassurance, a headache shrugged off āIām fineā you said. No one saw that two weeks later youād be dead. The pain inside remains. My soul is clasped in iron chains locked with no key to release it. It hurts much harder when thoughts of you hit.
I was playing a game when the call came, You shouldāve been home in 40 minutes and I waiting to hear the front door knowing instinctively you were in from work, rushing down stairs to hug you home. Instead you was being rushed to hospital I was rushed away to stay with my aunt as though I was in the way. Never once got to see you before you died. I always regretted that. Always will.
Annieās Song played at your funeral. The words have darker meaning now: The forest has burnt, the mountains have collapsed, the rain has ceased, the desert is wrought with death, the ocean is acid.
When I look to your photo for good memories to see I donāt feel happy, only pain and sorrow, only empty and hollow. You're not here where you should be.
The loss of you I still feel. the hole never will truly heal. The role canāt be refilled. A broken pillar that we canāt rebuild. I donāt think Iāll ever get over it.
15 years youāve been gone. Life has moved on but I havenāt. I still miss you. It still fucking hurts. I never got to tell you these precious few words:
āGoodbye mum. Love you, will always miss you.ā
So... authorās note. Usually I have one, so I guess Iāll feel Iāll add more background to this... if it wasnāt blazingly obvious from the poem what the topic is about.
About 15 years and two weeks ago today, at approximately 5.30pm, when my family was gearing up for Christmas, my brother had my first nephew on the way and I was looking forward to the Christmas holidays from my first year of secondary school, a phone call came through to the house phone. I was sat upstairs at the time playing a video game, before i received a shout to turn it off and come downstairs.
The phone call was from the hospital, whoād just rang my dad to tell him my mum had been rushed in after collapsing in the supermarket on her way home from work. I donāt know if it was my dad trying to protect me from the whole commotion of rushing around, or if he felt I would just be in the way, or whatever, but I was sent to stay with my aunt around the corner, not completely understanding the situation itself. Iām assuming itās because he wasnāt in much of a state to look after me with the stress of everything.
I recalled him telling my brother, or my aunt that he shouldāve told her to go to the hospital earlier in the day, when she complained of a strong, sharp sudden onset of pain in her head. Instead she shrugged it off as nothing, told him it passed, she was fine and went off to work. Guess what, it wasnāt fucking nothing.
The death certificate, lists it as a subarachnoid haemorrhage, a rupturing of a blood vessel that causes a bleed on the brain, an aneurysm. Life threatening and in need of emergency surgery. Without release, it causes a build-up of pressure, that left untreated eventually causes loss of consciousness and irreparable brain damage. Typically these are made at greater risks by weaknesses in the cell walls. Theyāre not guaranteed to burst, but theyāre at risk of it. Risk factors also include smoking (she was a smoker), family history (her mum died of it, from what I heard, in front of her), head injuries, excessive alcohol consumption and high blood pressure. It doesnāt necessarily come on over time either, it is sudden when it happens and that kinda makes it harder to accept, because not everyone sees it coming. Itās kinda the reason why Iām a little bit adamant when it comes to people who have chronic headaches or something to get them checked.
There is usually a 1-in-3 chance of survival (if treatment and diagnosis is received immediately), to make a full recovery, 1-in-3 chance of survival with varied loss of brain function, or 1-in-3 chance of death (if not caught in time). Hers wasnāt caught in time. She was in intensive care for two weeks before there was no detectable brain activity. She was essentially brain dead with only life support keeping her heart going when my dad OKād them to turn the machine off.
Never once in that time, I saw her in hospital. Maybe my family wanted to protect me from seeing her with so many tubes and pipes and whatnot, not responding to people. I donāt know. I never asked him, itās not something I perhaps what to get into a discussion about. The only thing I do know now is that I wish I had.... because perhaps it wouldāve helped down the line. I donāt know. Itās speculative, but itās something Iāve deeply regretted ever since. I never saw her again
My dad came to see me after that decision was made, to tell me she had gone. He wrapped his arms around me and wept for a few minutes, I sat motionless. I didnāt react immediately. It didnāt register until afterwards, when my cousin entered the room, and asked if I didnāt care. It took that for it to register completely and I cried into her arms.
The funeral was held a few days before Christmas. She was given a cremation, her ashes still sit in a small casket at home with a little doll sat on top, sat waiting for the day when it is time for my dad to go, to have their ashes mixed, reunited and sprinkled on a favourite holiday spot of theirs. She was cremated to John Denverās Annieās Song (you know, the on that goes You Fill Up My Senses).
Her photo has stayed with me in my room ever since though. Sat there, with a small lock of her hair in the frame. That photo is probably the one thing that will follow me to any place I move. Unfortunately the lock of hair is becoming loose and move around in the picture. I need to find a way to rebind it (somewhat) and secure it there again, but Iām also a little bit reluctant to open the frame and take it out because itās something I donāt want to lose and it is easy to lose. Itās the one possession in my life that is never going to change, never going to disappear.
Truth be told, I donāt think Iāve ever properly grieved, even to this day... or perhaps itās because Iāve never properly talked about my feelings. Iāve kinda left them to one side over the years and there is perhaps only one other person who I have told. They might eventually read this when itās published and reblogged to my main, if theyāre awake and scroll past it at some point if their time zone allows. They know who they are, theyāll probably mention it to me at some point in fact. I want to give them a massive thank you for the help theyāve given me over the years figuring stuff out. Thank you.
I want to round this note off now. There is a truth that is probably left unacknowledged to some, that people who have experienced profound loss come to realise in time. That truth is that the pain of loss, it never ever really truly goes away. The hole it leaves is never ever able to be filled. Time may be called a healer, and it does help a bit, it closes up a bit, but it always remains with you, that one person youāve lost in your life that can never be replaced. Be it parents, friends, partners, pets, etc. You learn to cope with it, you accept theyāre gone and not coming back, but you will never stop missing them. Never, no matter how much time has passed. It may not be every single day, but there are days, moments in life you will wish they are there.
As much as that hurts though, itās also still acknowledgement of the bond you shared. I guess if there is a comfort somewhere in it all, there is that. But still, it remains shit to feel sometimes and there are still times it pulls at you to remind you it is still there.
Anyway thatās it. Iāve said all I can on the topic.
Love you mum, alwaysā¦ and Iāll miss you, always.
