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My mother was my home and warmth

by sahdiya khatoon 2 months ago in grief

They say home is where the heart is

Where else can home be found without your mother? But they say home is where the heart is, but what do you do when home leaves you heartless. When home becomes a house, bricks and a roof and insulation, but no insulation from the cold; Of the speech you absorb. From the words you chew, and cough up at 3am. And the roof doesn’t stop the rain, the foundation keeps cracking. And you find your soul homeless. Without your mother.

Losing you was something that I never expected. It was inevitable but it caught me by surprise. They tried to save you, they tried to resuscitate you several times but he cut you open in such a place where no one would survive. The flat line came up on that machine and it felt like my heart stopped the moment yours did. That moment, I crumbled like everyone else did. The tears streamed down my face, and the world changed. It teared me apart, because it ate instantly at my heart. How could I compose myself? How could I even look at your numb blue lips? As you lay lifeless, I watched you. Every single moment I spent with you... It vanished in an instant. And then every regret began to sink in. Hearing the cries and screams from everyone else, it added to the pain. Because I'm standing there witnessing it first hand, how it feels to lose a beloved person. And then you was taken into a hearse for burial, and the guilt kept growing. Every single day I think about you. I replay every moment of that day and the day after that. I beat myself up because I wish I made more of an effort when you suffered so much. You suffered so much and I felt so helpless. Walking into the graveyard felt so cold, and so painful. I couldn't believe that I was watching your body being prepared for burial. The agony clumped up in my throat and made reality hard to swallow. Now every single time I visit your grave, I cry endlessly. The tears that were locked away and put on hold, they burst out like a flood into the soil where you lay.

Where else can home be found without your mother? But they say home is where the heart is, but what do you do when home leaves you heartless. When home becomes a house, bricks and a roof and insulation, but no insulation from the cold; Of the speech you absorb. From the words you chew, and cough up at 3am. And the roof doesn’t stop the rain, the foundation keeps cracking. And you find your soul homeless. Without your mother.

I would’ve never imagined your loss would mean so much, that it scarred every vein which ran through my body. How it ripped apart my chest as though I’m throwing all my emotions away, leaving me empty & confused. I tried to accept that you were gone, I swear I tried really hard. I tried to understand that you were in a better place, happier and at peace but my heart wouldn’t let me accept that; dwelling on the fact that you went away, far from me. It still hurts as bad as the day you went. Wounds are still fresh and refuse to close. It’s weird, I always imagined you’d be here as long as I was and I’d pray that you’d last ever longer but God takes away those whom are beloved to him. I’ve shed too many tears, choked up so much anger and inhaled a heck of a load of sorrow. I wish you had never left, I wish I could’ve said goodbye or just had a sign so I’d known it was your final time. I’m missing you so much mum.

Where else can home be found without your mother? But they say home is where the heart is, but what do you do when home leaves you heartless. When home becomes a house, bricks and a roof and insulation, but no insulation from the cold; Of the speech you absorb. From the words you chew, and cough up at 3am. And the roof doesn’t stop the rain, the foundation keeps cracking. And you find your soul homeless. Without your mother.

It’s been so long since you’ve been gone... home just doesn’t feel like home anymore. It’s like the spark left the fuse. Now there’s just a dullness drifting through the air of an empty house. You being gone... not only left the house empty, but me too... my sleep and rest you took with you, now I remain sleepless, there’s a chapter to my book missing.

I can’t turn the page forward, I can only read backwards, but even that doesn’t make sense to me anymore. In a book we have the start, the middle and the ending. I just hope one day you come back and fix this house, I hope one day you come and fix me again. I was broken before, you helped me repair myself, but now I’m in a hole darker than I’ve ever seen and I can’t see anybody but yourself. 2am becomes home to me because I’m used to being surrounded by darkness. My eyes may be open but everything around me is closed. I’m so numb. Becoming immune to the pain because I’m used to it. I may be alone but my thoughts keep me company. I could lay in the silence for hours, listening to the clock, waiting for the light to shine through my window. Realising I’ve spent yet another night in bed with my demons. But I’m not afraid. They’re the only friends who haven’t left me in these hard times. They’re the one’s there for me whilst I lie awake suffering all night.

Where else can home be found without your mother? But they say home is where the heart is, but what do you do when home leaves you heartless. When home becomes a house, bricks and a roof and insulation, but no insulation from the cold; Of the speech you absorb. From the words you chew, and cough up at 3am. And the roof doesn’t stop the rain, the foundation keeps cracking. And you find your soul homeless. Without your mother.

I walk through the door and it’s not the same. You can’t greet me again or call my name. You no longer tell me to put the dishes away, or remind me when I almost forgot to pray. I won’t be able to smell your spray, I can only clutch your clothes to inhale the scent, and it’ll take me back to the days I took for granted, when you were there for me; like when I’d have bad dreams, and you’d hug me until I went back to sleep. We’d argue but we’d always make up, knowing our love was stronger than harsh words. But if I could have a chance to hear you again, I’d listen to the laugh I took for granted. I’d hug you once more and tell you I’m sorry. I’d tell you I’m sorry for the times I hurt you, the times that I lied trying to protect you. The times I made jokes, and you took them to heart, and instead I thought it was banter and laughed. I’d go back to the start and relive it all, I’d take the tears and pains I lived through... If it meant I had another chance with you.

Where else can home be found without your mother? But they say home is where the heart is, but what do you do when home leaves you heartless. When home becomes a house, bricks and a roof and insulation, but no insulation from the cold; Of the speech you absorb. From the words you chew, and cough up at 3am. And the roof doesn’t stop the rain, the foundation keeps cracking. And you find your soul homeless. Without your mother.

The day I lost my mother, it was the biggest heartbreak. Because there is nothing that will cure this heartache. I wasn’t able to say my final goodbye. The only thing I knew was to cry. This beautiful woman that gave birth to me, she was my first love. And that love was one I will never give up. Being her first child, I was given the most love. We had our share of disputes. But for her, there will never be a substitute. She fed me, cleaned me and taught me. A mother that encouraged me to follow my heart and thrive. Reminding me of the reward I’ll receive for each moment I strive. I don’t know how I am coping without you mum because I always feel blue. I didn’t show my love often; that’s what I regret the most. I remember everything from your tears to your laughter. I harboured your pain and still do till today. I miss you so much, and missing you will never stop. All your advises were priceless. Being taught how to live by you was an incredible art. My mannerisms were instilled by you. The softness of my heart was conditioned by you. Living without you will never be the same.

Where else can home be found without your mother? But they say home is where the heart is, but what do you do when home leaves you heartless. When home becomes a house, bricks and a roof and insulation, but no insulation from the cold; Of the speech you absorb. From the words you chew, and cough up at 3am. And the roof doesn’t stop the rain, the foundation keeps cracking. And you find your soul homeless. Without your mother.

Mum you were special in ways you can’t imagine. You were always my saviour because I was an accident waiting to happen. But you were a delicate soul above and beneath the surface. An entity that only knew kindness as its purpose. To everyone, you were so happy, soft and confident. No one realised that you were stuck with demons that were so dominant. And I understood your agony. I could always see behind your smile, I could feel every tragedy. You didn’t let the harshness of this world turn your heart cold. And I was able to harness that your heart was made from gold. But it was more precious than that as it was priceless. Mum, I could see and feel so much love when I’d stare into your iris. I witnessed the love you had for everyone behind your eyes and how you painted pictures. Beautiful descriptions of hope and harmony were contained in your scriptures. But you were a book with a sad story, one that ends in sacrifice and blood. This world could have moulded you into something evil. But despite all the horrors you remained patient and silent. You used to spend nights in tears. Waking up and living with the same fears. But when you slowly started to banish them, it resulted in you being murdered. You were always the one to save me and catch me when I fell, now I don’t have that hand anymore. You tried to defend yourself endlessly with your back against the wall. But your reward is with the Almighty. And true justice will only be done to you on the day of liability.

Where else can home be found without your mother? But they say home is where the heart is, but what do you do when home leaves you heartless. When home becomes a house, bricks and a roof and insulation, but no insulation from the cold; Of the speech you absorb. From the words you chew, and cough up at 3am. And the roof doesn’t stop the rain, the foundation keeps cracking. And you find your soul homeless. Without your mother.

But I hope we meet in Paradise. I hope that’s where my destiny lies. I hope I can meet you there. Especially as this life was too much for you to bear. I haven’t visited in so long. And I guess maybe it’s because I feel strong. Stronger than I was before. Stronger before God closed the doors. After the tragedy that occurred, I had to battle an internal war. I’m still battling, I relapse into the same losses because my soul is sore. I’ll visit soon, and maybe I’ll find some more closure. Maybe when I see the dirt on the floor again, I might retain more composure. Maybe the nightmare and tears will hurt less. Maybe the internal tidal wave will subside, maybe that’ll be progress. I hope we meet again in Paradise Mum. So, I can tell you about the future you missed, you’d be so glad. Telling you about the blessings that we were blessed with. I wish you could have seen us all live. Visiting you, seeing your final resting place, brings me this sense of security and calmness that this world is temporary. I let the tears fall and remember your face. I’m a lot like you in some ways. My exterior is tough but my soft heart has always found a way to stay. I was only 14 but I still remember that very day. The impact was agonising and what followed was grey. I hope God grants you His mercy, which I know you are worthy, and opening the entrance of Paradise for you. And I hope that He forgives me so I can meet you again. So, I can see your smile again, as it’s a memory that I’ll always retain.

grief

sahdiya khatoon

Do Good and Good Will Come To You

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