Reflections

Hello guys,
It's your potential blogger here again.

Good evening to my pals over here in Nigeria and good day to y'all all over the world.

Not so long ago I read a poem by @blaqkharo with link here
https://steemit.com/poetry/@blaqkarho/to-mum
And I was taken aback to the thirteenth day of May 2010, the very day I lost my mum to cancer.

2010 was a very rough year for me because not so long after I lost my mum, I lost my dad to depression in the month of July. Apparently the world was out to get me I thought.

I still remember the last time I saw my mum. I was just eleven years old then and I had stayed with her in the hospital for two weeks already, two weeks of emotional torture seeing her in pains. I wanted out, I couldn't bear one more day of seeing her in such a condition.

When people ask me why I hate religion so much, the thought of my last days with my mum quickly resurface and my hatred for religion becomes stronger because I remember begging God to spare her life. I remember praying and reading the Bible just so he would have pity on us and spare her. How helpful that was🙄...

I remember how I was thought that God could turn everything around. Oh how my hopes were crushed the moment I heard of her passing on, but I felt He could still help. I waited days and days for her return but was disappointed every single day.

I remember the last thing she said to me when I left the hospital "please come back OK?" those words hunt me every single day because I never returned to meet her alive. I feel like I broke my promise to her when I said I would be back. Now when I feel like I've disappointed someone I remember that single broken promises and then I physically hurt myself or drink to forget it.

I remember when she was laid to rest, I couldn't give a fairwell speech or remark because all I could think about was how I hated the world, the doctors, the God who didn't help her. She was lying there in that grave because someone up there had the power to heal her but didn't. I wanted to make a speech but if I had, I'd have cursed everything so I didn't.

I remember the helplessness I felt when the grave was buried and I stood alone with my little sister looking at the spot that now held the grave of my mum. I remember making a vow to myself never to feel such helplessness again and also to help people whenever I can because I thought no one should feel that way.

In lonely nights, I still think of the memories. Her flawless cooking, her teasing when I was angry, the fact that she would always provide the best for her children even at her expense, she was simply the best.

When life gets me down, I never succumb to the feeling of helplessness, it's a promise I've made and this time I intend to keep it. I thought of how shitty the world can be sometimes then I created a persona for those times and he isn't your average happy Joe.

I remember the last birthday party my mum organized for me. Till date I don't celebrate my birthdays... heck! I don't tell no one about it because I don't want anything to replace the memory of the one I shared with my mum.

I thought that was enough emotional bullshit for one year then July came in with her own idea of enough. The aftermaths of July's events changed my life forever but I wouldn't talk about it today or probably ever.

I expected sharing this would made me feel better but I feel exactly the same, I guess that psychological principle is wrong...

Image from pixabay.com