Growing Pains

An Alien To The Status Quo

Dear Rose

I won’t ask how you are doing, I mean, I really don’t need to.
It’s been what, 15 years, since we last spoke? Back then, with all the hope and naivety that comes with being young, I thought the world wouldn’t let me down. Though I guess it had let me down long before you up and left. Big lesson in life that was, learning that the world doesn’t owe me anything, considering it was here first.
However, I thought you wouldn’t let me down. I mean, out of all the people in the world…

My life in the past 11 years has been anything but perfect. I won’t go into specific detail of what it has been like, I’m kind of hoping that you at least caught the highlights
I know you wished perfection for me and I am sorry it didn’t happen just the way you hoped it would. You should know this though, this uncertainty and the curve balls life keeps throwing us, having been here for a little while longer than I, 19 years to be exact.
Also, there’s this thing about God laughing at our plans. How true this is.

You should be happy to know that I’m doing everything right, by the book. Of course there have been a lot of hiccups along the road that you had planned for me.
For instance, I am at the age where everyone is looking at me wondering when I will be married.

Oh, and I’m not a doctor, I couldn’t do medicine, I failed the required subject. On purpose. Anyone that asks me why I failed though, I have the standard, we-had-never-dissected-a-frog answer. But you know your girl is bright, I had the basic knowledge down. I just wasn’t feeling the whole medicine thing not after…

Instead, I’m happy to report that I’m a petroleum geoscientist (it is pretty cool to say that, although I’m yet be employed in that field). To my resume, I added wordsmith. So yeah, that’s that.

I still remember the day you left, I especially remember the day before. It’s imprinted on my mind. I remember the weather, it was cloudy. Well it was March, the onset of the rainy season.

I remember the novel I was reading at the time, I don’t remember the title, but I remember that it had a death theme. I remember the feeling I had, even now I can’t fully describe it, I do know that it was a sense of foreboding. I’m not superstitious, the little superstitions you thought I had were just to humor your superstitious self, but I remember that feeling. Something bad was going to happen, and it did, you gave up. You left. You died.

The death certificate of course; reads multiple organ failure but we all know you had given up the fight long before you expired.
You gave up and that sucks for me and all the others you left behind. But I can’t hate you for that, I don’t have the right to judge you for your choices. You led a hard life. It sucked losing you at that age, it still sucks…I willfully choose to not focus on the pain, otherwise I would drown in it. And of course, the self pity will set in.

I asked a friend recently, ‘how one gets over the death of a parent?’
He said, ‘you never do.’
I hate that he’s right. He did tell me though to choose every day not to focus on the pain of losing you but to celebrate the time I had with you.
However, March 3rd and 4th are particularly hard days for me. March Darkness.
They say people can sense when they’re going to die. I never put much stock in that theory until you. It’s as if your spirit had given up long before your body stopped functioning. And you tried to prepare me. Those little cryptic sentences you would say….well they weren’t exactly cryptic but hey I was 14 and I didn’t have the wealth of knowledge that I now have (I’m modest, I know)
You used to say things like;
“Look after your sister after I’m gone…”
“I won’t be around for much longer…”
“Be a good girl…”
“Study hard…”
You knew.
It’s true that time heals all wounds, and the wound brought on by your departure was healed, in it’s stead is an ugly painful scar though.
Oh Mother, I learnt a lot from you. I learnt how to smile even when I really shouldn’t. You went through a lot of crap at the hands of so many yet still, you had a smile. You’re my inspiration.
I am grateful for my mother now. She’s an awesome woman, and that she is your sister is an added bonus. She is my mother in every sense of the word. And I bless the Lord every single day for her life.
She told me you visited her once, you appeared to her in a dream and just smiled this wonderful smile, then disappeared. I take that to mean that you are alright, wherever you are and you are happy and at peace. Finally at peace. And that’s all I can ask for.
I celebrate you, your life and the extraordinary woman that you were.
I love you always

Yours Truly


Time heals all wounds. And if it doesn’t, you name them something other than wounds and agree to let them stay.
Emma Forrest , Your Voice in My Head

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