Dark Corners

I turned towards the curtain of the sterile room and plugged my ears. Pondered my decision in the moment, thinking I was avoiding the worst part; not yet understanding I would soon find out just how wrong I was. 

“About 30 seconds,” they told us. We might hear some gurgling sounds, but the breathing tube would be out quickly and then we could be with her while she passed... they didn’t say peacefully, but it was a naive assumption I made. The movies always portrayed death coming quickly and quietly. Gave me the false sense that death would be like falling asleep. But oh, how they got it so wrong. Peaceful is not the word I will think of when I close my eyes and relive the last moments of her life. Peaceful is not what my dreams will be, come the night. 

I try to keep our last good time at the forefront of my memory. Anything after that, I want to forget. Her drunken texts that didn’t make sense, but still upset me enough to see red. Her nonsense fueled my anger and her jealousy added to that rage. But it was only that particular version of her that I didn’t like. That particular side of her that I couldn’t stand; The one that I hated... But it wasn’t her. At least not the real her, no. I was always sure of this because I could see past all of the bullshit. Past all of the ugliness the alcohol brought out of her. Past all of the jealousy that only showed up after the bottle was empty and her stomach was full; the liquid sloshing around in her belly like an angry sea when a storm was near.  But deep down, I always knew she loved me just as much as I loved her. And although at times we both refused to admit it, we really were both equally just as wrong, as we really were both equally just as right. And regardless of who was upset with whom, my fathers love never faded for either one of us; Which, after all was said and done, was all either of us ever wanted. 

And oh, how much I actually, really, fucking loved her; love her. She was my second mom. My stepmom. My stepmother...My mother.  And oh, how much it really, fucking hurt to watch her die...And to watch each of my brothers cry...And to see my fathers tears fall, so full of pain that they alone could have well killed the rest of us in those last moments. For the rest of my life, I will attempt to push that pain below. Attempt to push those last images into the darkest corners of my mind. And for the rest of my life, be it a century or a day, I will forever be silently attempting not to fully break. 

Even though, really... I think I might already be broken.