My entire adulthood.
I have watched.
Or more correctly, not watched.
My parents age from afar.
When my father died, I was nowhere.
As my mother's memories have faded.
I've been missing.
I have abdicated responsbilities.
To my siblings. Lived my life.
For this, I feel guilt.
Sadness. But not regret.
I feel guilt for not feeling regret.
I know - at least I think I know.
That my parents would never have wanted me to feel that way.
They encouraged me to make my own life.
And I know they found pride in the life I made.
And I truly believe they were always strong enough to never really need me by their side.
But my mother is not strong anymore.
She is dependent.
I feel guilt because I find this hard.
It is too easy to ignore. From afar. To displace reality with memories.
Happier memories. A preferable reality.
In coming days, circumstances as they are.
I must finally step up.
Face reality. Accept responsibilities.
I will be my mother's carer.
For nine days, she is my responsibility.
I am terrified.
I am excited too. I miss her. I know I will cherish this time.
But quite frankly, I don't know if I'm up to it.
I'm scared I will fuck it up.
To not forget the things I must not forget.
To be there for all the time I was not there.
I dearly hope I will remember.
For all of the right reasons.
To care. To love. To repay.
To be a son that warrants pride.
In his presence, not his absence.
This is part of a series of pieces. I. Nine days https://commaful.com/play/s0me0ne/nine-days/ 2. Day one of nine https://commaful.com/play/s0me0ne/day-one-of-nine/ 3. Day two of nine https://commaful.com/play/s0me0ne/day-two-of-nine/ Love your mothers!