Posted by
12th Sep 2011

As time passes by I gather more questions than answers to the puzzle that was my Mum.

I see her as I did when I was 5, with her chocolate coloured hair cascading down her back; her so long lashes that models dream of. I look into the face of her granddaughter and I see those lashes and that spirit looking back at me.

Later I see her sleeping, tucked tightly into a hospital bed, staring at her through a glass panel. Mums laughter no more, just slurred words and dull lifeless brown eyes, the eyes of a hunted wolf.
When she comes home a silence descends ever fearful that she should return to that place....But I want her to go back so they can return my real Mum, the one that laughed and brushed my hair that made my Dad weak with her secret smile.

This creature is no good to me, she is like a lifeless doll, her spirit broken, no life left, just a pretty husk with no joy or laughter.

Her broken spirit grows more bitter as I grow into the woman she once was, I am no longer welcome, a reminder of what she used to see reflected but now out of reach, the more she tries through her drugs and drink the more elusive that creature she once was becomes.

Drink flows as freely as the things she once cared for slip through her still pretty hands, she fights the weakness sometimes but its a battle she always loses and ultimately a war she can never win.

I still have more questions than answers but I see her in the mirror some days in ways I’d rather not but I know the weakness is not for me, I saw the pain it inflicted, I seek out people who have beaten something she never could and admire them instead and ask her silently “Why couldn’t you do that?”

She will never answer me, I know that, she will never do many things as she sleeps forever maybe finally at peace but questions remain “did she know how much I loved her?”” Did she want to stop?””Why were we not enough?”

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