August 28, 2008

by Nika
(Maryland)

I am writing this as if I were telling a detailed story, it's the only way I know how to express, so one can feel what I feel.

"In the morning." Those were the last words my mother said to me before she woke up dead Thursday, August 28, 2008. She lie flat on her back in a red t-shirt on her bed at 6am. I knew something was wrong, she never lays like that. She doesn't wake up when I call her. Her face his pale and clammy, lips are white; she looks dead. I cannot think like that, I call 911. They tell me to try to give CPR, so I do. The first to arrive, not EMS whom I need, but a cop. He looks at her, I can tell by his expression, he thinks she's dead too. Adrenaline is starting to rise. EMS gets there, yet its not like the other times when they come. There is not a lot of talking, no movement what so ever, no stretcher coming. Just some kind of machine that's beeping and talking. "They did everything they could" says the cop. "What does that mean?" I say. A blur after that.

It is now 2 years later, I'm mad as hell and miserable. I was 23 when she died, she was 55. I am at no point of acceptance. I have read "Motherless Daughters." I cannot even accept the fact right now that all I have left is memories, and that there are only degrees of coping. I'm sorry to say that that is not good enough for me. I want my mother. I feel jealous and envious of anyone that has their mom. I don't want to be this way. I have been traumatized by this event and don't know where to begin in coping with such. I have nothing but anxiety, and a pain in my chest that has not subsided in months.
I feel as if I am in a cold dark well, and everyone is telling me to come out. "enjoy life... Be happy" they say. How can I when I'm down this cold, pitch black well with absolutely no guidance or a way to get out. I know there are others that feel what I feel, but they're not around me. Which makes it harder. Life just goes on and no one cares. Life pushes me to go on like nothing happened and that angers me extremely. Why can't someone acknowledge my pain and how real it is, EVERY DAY?

With all that said. I know I need help, before I have a heart attack just like my mother.