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My mother I’d known was gone, and I was left with nothing. With no one. The last thing I wanted was to cause her additional stress, knowing it wouldn’t get me anywhere. It was one of her biggest triggers, only causing her to leave me faster.
That’s what hurt the most.
Being alone with only my thoughts, my fears, the reality it could be me one day in her shoes. Laying in that bed, praying, hoping I would remember my life in the end.
I shook my head, trying to push what ate away at me every day.
My mind had become my own worst enemy.
Far greater than Harley Jameson could ever be.
“Jackson, come here, baby.”
I didn’t have to be told twice, and I went to her. Holding on for dear life.
Please… please don’t leave me.
“Shhh… it’s alright… I’m here…” she whispered, holding onto me just as tight. It was only then I realized I was crying.
“But for how long?”
“I don’t know, baby. I just don’t know anymore. I’m sorry, Jackson. I’m so sorry this is happening.”
I leaned into her embrace, soaking it up as much as possible until I couldn’t take it anymore, so I let it out.
I cried, harder and harder for I don’t know how long. She didn’t let go or push me away. If anything, she held me tighter, letting me sob for as long as I needed. Whispering reassuring words to help ease my pain and the hurt I felt all over.
“Please don’t leave me, Mom. I won’t make it without you. My heart hurts so much. Sometimes it hurts so bad that I feel like I’m dying, and it never ends. It’s there. In my mind. Thinking about you… about our family… about what’s going to happen when you’re not here anymore… I think about it all. I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose myself,” I sobbed, unable to control my emotions and needing to tell her how I felt. “What is the point of living life if I may not remember it?”
I sucked in air, trying to find some sort of reassurance.
Waiting.
Feeling as though I was always waiting.
Her hold on me loosened, and I was suddenly filled with despair. Knowing what was coming. I shut my eyes tighter, holding onto her. Praying it would be enough to keep her there with me. That was the worst part of this, losing her over and over again.
“Mom… please… fight it… for me… please fight it for me…”
That one syllable.
Those three letters.
The first word I ever said.
The one she taught me, a word that was supposed to mean the world to her. Turned out to be her biggest trigger to leave me through it all.
But it wasn’t until she spewed, “I’m not your mother,” that she killed me once and for all.
“No! No! No! Don’t do this! Don’t do this to me! You’re in there! I know you’re still in there!”
“Get. Off. Me.”
“Mom, plea—”
“I said, get off me!”
I shuddered at the sound of her voice, her tone laced with nothing but anger and hate. It was so easy for her to lose control. In seconds, she’d go from being my mother to a woman I didn’t know. Who didn’t know me.
