Clean Slate

I have not spoken much lately. I have kept most everything bottled up inside for fear of dulling the pain I feel. My mother gently let go of life at Christmas, quietly, without warning, without bothering anyone. Even though I had often wished I was ride of her, it had never occurred to me that one day, she would actually be dead. I just wanted to escape her ascendancy over me. And now, I have no one to fight. Fighting was the luxury of the livings. My destiny is now mine to live, except perhaps for the fact that this is also utopia. We are linked now, stronger than ever, and I’m surprisingly fine with it. I wish she had a better life, I wish I could have done more for her; I wish I was a better daughter. But she was my mom, she came first, she was the example, the teacher; she thought us life, love, character, but she desperately lacked intrinsic knowledge of these matters. She guessed. We learnt what we could out if it. I have gotten to know her more in death than I did in life. We were unexpectedly very similar. We missed our shot. We made a mess of it all. In spite of life’s curveballs, my mother leaves behind a legacy through her children, and she deserves for her children to be inconvenienced by pain for a little while, as I am sure, it will dull on its own fast enough.