The Day My Mother Died

This whole thing came from a conversation regarding my birthday were I had to explain why I did not celebrate the day.

I don’t know if these morbid topics make for good reading so maybe you can tell me. I have to tell Cassi because she asked but not necessarily tell you. So tell me what you think, do you want to see more letters like this?

19^th November 2011

Dear Cassi,

   

It had never occurred to me that I had failed to relay the events of my mother’s death now some twenty two years ago. It happened around this time of year and so I was given reason to dislike the holidays. Somehow I got it into my head that topics like that are things I should shy away from. The dismal facts of my life are many and numerous. I could drown you in a deluge of depressing events, but as the scars are closed if not healed I have no need.

   

In any case, my mother died in her second relapse of cancer. It was a disease that ate her over the years, and finally its burrowing caught into the chamber of her spirit and she was gone. That is not to say that this was the day she died, but the day she stopped living.

   

That I recall well. Her three children were called to come see her at the care facility as we did every weekend, and she called us in one by one to tell us that she was going to die.

   

I remember telling her that we had seen all this before and that she had lived through it, but she told me that it was worse this time. I believed that it was best to try and keep a positive outlook. I was a not to bright nine year old who believed what I was told.

   

I don’t blame my mother for giving up. She had lived a hard life and she deserved eternal rest. Even the solace of nothingness must have been a relief after what that poor woman lived through. That is why I know that whatever lies waiting for us beyond this world my mother is in a better place.

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal