I Deserve This.

Hello and thank you for reading my story,

First of let me tell you about me, I am fifteen and have a great family, two younger sisters and my parents still live together and love each other. We're not poor but not rich either, I am content with everything I have and get along with my family, we hardly ever fight. School is no challenge for me, I don't find homework annoying or anything so I don't mind doing it.

My mother is spontanious and nice, too nice sometimes. She can't cook and laughs about everything, she's obsessed with dying her hair blonde and even though she's not the prettiest 42 year old woman and yes, you can easily see she's had three children, but still every 20 year old man in the gym goes after her, flirting and smiling. My mother being dense doesn't notice this of course, when I say something about she says 'he's just being nice'. Haha I love that about her.

My father is a tall man, he used to lift weights and even though he gained a couple of pounds you can still see the result of his earlier years. He used to be blond but now it's just grey, he jokes about it sometimes saying it's mine and my sisters' fault. He works from monday to friday, from 7 to 5. He is a man of few words, doesn't share his feelings and he isn't easily angered, he likes it when people get hurt on TV and watches the Discovery Channel every evening.

Ever since I was a little kid I had this thing, when pets died I knew they were dead, and that they would never come back. My sisters who were younger would cry, but I didn't. I remember not understanding why they were sad, why were they crying over something that they couldn't ever change? What was the point? Whenever I fell down or was in pain, I didn't cry, yes, it hurt, but I wouldn't cry.

In 2009, my grandmother, who was like a second mother to me, got sick; Cancer.

In the months that it became clear she wouldn't get better I would find myself going home after school, instead of her house as I normally did every thuesday and friday, I would be at home, in my room, either sleeping or thinking. I tried to shut her out, keep her at a distance, living in this delusion that if she would eventually leave us, it wouldn't be as bad. And that's what I did untill the day she died.

That was the worst mistake I have ever made, and nothing in this live time will overpower the emotional pain and damage it has cost.

Days, weeks, months, years, till this day, I can't even talk about her. The shame that goes through me when I try prevents me from wanting to talk about it, I am the lowest of the lowest, I left her when she was fighting for her life, I don't have the right to say her name or call her grandma anymore.

It's three years later now and I still cry myself to sleep most of the time. But no one can know, no one can see how badly it has messed me up. No one will understand, 'grandparents die all the time' they'll say. I would just be seen as the weak low life I am, and then the human instinct will have them crush me.

I would do it all over, I would go to her house every day, I would hug her and tell her I love her, I would help her with everything and just show her that I cared, so so much, even though it looked like I didn't. I would switch places with her, I wouldn't mind dying if it was for her. I would sell my soul, everything I have, I would starve, go through torture, kill myself, if it meant that she could come back and live. I would just do that, to be allowed to push her wheelchair one more time or to hold her hand.

Do you know I still remember everything in her house? I still remember every spot on the wall, I know exactly where the pictures hung and I even remember how her closet looked on the inside. I remember the smell of parfume and sigarets, I remember the flowers in the yard and the sound of the door opening and closing. I remember her laugh and her hand in mine as we walked the dog. I still know the exact route we took every time.

I can't even go past her house, sometimes when I try, I have the urge to go up there and peak through the backyard fence, to see if she was sitting next to the window watching TV. But there live different people now, the curtains are now white instead of yellow, the welcome stone at the front door is gone.

The beautifull flowers in the frontyard are still there though, I can't remeber the name of the plant, but she always called it a bride, because it had over a million small white flowers. Sometimes I think I can see her in the kitchen, but of course there's no one there. Or maybe, some day when I will ring the bell, she will walk through the wooden door of the living room, frowning that I hadn't used my key.

It was when she died, my strength completely dissapeared. I still act tough and don't cry when there are people around, but inside, I only want to cry. I wish it would help. Because that's what they say right? Cry it all out? I've been sobbing into my pillow for years now and I feel even worse than before.

But I don't care anymore. I feel like I deserve this and worse. I don't want to tell anyone, I have to do this alone, I need to suffer for what I did. I hate hearing 'you were too young to understand back then', because I wasn't, I knew she was going to die and I still ran away.

When I heard she was dead for the first time I was frozen, just in a daze, it was really over now. After the funeral, I cried, I just hated myself so much, I wanted to slam my head into the wall. I hated the docters that hadn't saved her, I hated my parents for not forcing me to visit her, I hated how everyone had pitied me so much that day, at every face that came by I couldn't help but think; 'you left her too, you never visited either. Pity her, she's dead now.'

Do I blame myself for her death? Yes, I do. Even though I couldn't have cured the cancer, I could have been around, maybe she would've fought harder, maybe I could have given her that extra boost she needed to survive for an extra year.

Nobody in this world will ever hate me as much as I hate myself, and the tears I have shed, the pain I go through, the guilt, the sadness; I all deserve it.
ThisSocietyKillsMe ThisSocietyKillsMe
13-15, F
2 Responses May 12, 2012

PPSS I AM SORRY this was about your grandmother, not your mother - I read it with my younger son screaming in my ear so I misread that. In any case, it still applies. We sometimes wish we'd have done things differently, but our loved ones KNOW we loved them. I think you should talk with your family about this some day - finally telling someone who also loved your grandmother will really help, I think.

I understand, and thank you.

You are not alone. So many of us feel bad about how we treated our mothers, after they are gone. We look back on all the mistakes we made. But you know what? Mothers know that we loved them deep down. They remember the good things. That's what being a mother is about - realizing the little day to day stuff doesn't represent the big picuture, knowing our kids are complex and say and do things becuase they are young, that don't represent their true feelings. Now that I AM a mother I completely see the other side of it. Your mother knew you loved her and that she was a good mom - trust me, she did! And I can see all the love you have for her in your post.<br />
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My mother is schizophrenic and can be nasty and I have HORRIBLE fights. Sometimes I realize that if she was gone, i'd feel terribly guilty, because I know inside she is a good person. SHe can't help that her disease makes her feel nasty. But I also know that she knows I love her. <br />
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So please stop blaming yourself, if you can. Spread the love you have for your mom. You are a good person. Have a great mother's day!!