Mum’s crying again. That’s how my days go now, thinking she’s talking to her comatose son, but in reality I’m right here, locked inside my own body, fully conscious but unable to move or speak. I braced myself for her routine onslaught of confessions as she wiped the tears from her eyes and adjusted the stiff hospital chair.
“Oh, Danny, it’s just so hard,” she began, her voice cracking. “I’m working night and day, and when I’m not working I’m cleaning. I love Mark dearly but I wish he would just once take something off my shoulders.”
Mark was my stepfather. He was a violent, ungrateful “man” who had never once visited me in the year I’d been in the hospital. My father would have been here every moment of every day with her, holding my other hand. I missed him dearly, and so did she.
Mum had taken on a second job recently, her life now a relentless cycle of work and hospital visits. She didn’t realise it, but I knew every sacrifice she was making.
“Sometimes, I wish it were over,” she had once told me. The weight of that still hung heavy in my mind. “I wish you were dead.” It was a slip, a moment of raw, brutal honesty, and I forgave her instantly. It didn’t make it feel any better.
As her sobs quieted down, she leaned closer, “And now, he says we can’t afford this anymore. He’s right, Danny. My cancer won’t go away without treatment but… it’s so expensive.” Her voice trailed off into the silence of the room.
I think it was the first time I’d ever agreed with my stepfather. I yearned to hug her, to comfort her, to tell her I understand and to look after herself first.
“I need to be there for your brother too,” she said, a decision seeming to form as she spoke. “He shouldn’t grow up without his mum.”
Aron’s last visit was brief, but what he said cut deep. His only words were, “I miss you, but I miss mum too.” We sat the rest of the time in silence as he held my hand. I understood their pain, from the truths they spoke that they’d never share if they knew I could hear them.
“Goodbye, my sweet boy,” she whispered softly, her tone with an air of finality and her lips brushing a gentle kiss across my forehead. It felt like a farewell, which confused me; I’d hear her voice again tomorrow, just like every other day these past 12 months.
Aron’s faint voice reached me as she stood to leave. “You’ve done the right thing, Mum. I’m so sorry.”
The door clicked shut, leaving me in the dim, quiet room. A deep sleep tugged at the edges of my consciousness. Maybe tomorrow she would have found a solution to some of her problems. I looked forward to hearing from her then. But for now, I let the darkness envelop me and slumped into a long, well-deserved rest.
