Mother.

A cold winter night, the wind is howling, snow is falling and not a soul dares to battle the elements. The temperature is below freezing and the houses are only kept warm through central heating. The telephone rings, its sound piercing the silence of the house. As soon as I picked up the phone there is no one on the other line so I hang up. I hear my mother calling me up to her room. I sprint up the stairs, going up three at a time, until I come to her door. I am scared of what I am going to see, I just hope that she is still smiling.

My mum has been recently diagnosed with terminal cancer. It felt as if my whole world collapsed as the doctor was telling us the news. I felt emotionless, like I was living in a dream. Then, my mum calls me. I snap out of my dream state and listen to what she has to say. She begs me to be strong for her in this moment of need and to spend as much time as I can next to her. So I do. I leave her side only to cook her food, or to shower, I started skipping university, I’m sure they will understand. I spend day and night next to her and nothing anyone says can make me leave her side. Once a week I go to the hospital to collect some medicines for my mum. It is something that I did not like doing as I had to leave her side, but, she needed her meds after all. I run down the stairs, leap into my car and speed off towards the hospital. I park in the car park and run towards the elevator. I see a notice that it is out of order so I run towards the stairs and begin my 4 storey ascent. When i get to the main door, I know exactly where I have to go, so I run to the pharmacy to pick up her medicine. The pharmacist, upon seeing me, calls me over and tells me that she cannot give me the medicine anymore. I get furious, demanding to know why my poor mother, cannot get her medicine to feel better! After a couple of minutes arguing with the pharmacist, we come to an agreement that as soon as I bring my father’s signature that my mother needs the medication, she will give me what I need. I run back down towards my car, start and speed off towards my house. I arrive, park, and go up next to my mum to tell her what happened to me. She tells me not to worry and to stay next to her, and so I do. We laugh, joke, and talk. As soon as my dad arrives, I call him up to my mother’s room to talk. He comes and asks me what I need. I tell him what happened at the hospital and I see his eyes filling up with tears. When I ask him what is wrong, he tells me, “son, mother has been dead for three days, surely you must realise that the bed you are sitting on is empty!” and he exits the room and goes to his room, where I can hear him crying softly. I stare at the door for a couple of seconds, then at the bed, expecting to see my mother but, sure enough, the bed is empty. I jump off the bed, my mind rushing. Combined with the sudden realisation that my mother, my role model, is dead, I have a question running around in my mind. If my mother has been dead for three days, then who was I talking to for the past days? ...