Not your story

Hi Mum, I know I never told you this before, but I love you. I really do! I know that I let you down and distanced myself from you and the family all those years ago; and I know that my absence hurt you a great deal, but it was never actually about 'you' at all. It never was.

The truth is, I was in a great deal of pain ... the kind of pain that eats you from the inside out leaving a hollow space in the centre of your chest where your heart used to live. I needed to scream ... but couldn't! I needed to talk ... but couldn't! I came home in need of help ... but couldn't ask for it! All that I could do is hide in that empty hole in my chest hoping that nobody ... somebody ... YOU would come and find me again, because I simply ... couldn't! But you never even looked! You, dad, the rest of the family ... nobody came to look for 'me', yet everybody was happy that I was 'home'. Somebody once said that home is where my heart is, but it isn't. 'Home' is simply a place where everybody in the family would come together occasionally and pretend to be happy sharing gifts with each other from under the pretend plastic Christmas tree in the pretence of love. So I hid my 'self' away from all that pretentiousness just in case it somehow exposed my truth too much. I couldn't face the truth, but couldn't live the lie either ... so I hid in that deep, dark cavernous hole inside myself, where every tear echoed inside as it hit the cavern floor forming a pool; a pool that eventually dried up when the tears stopped falling.

She died Mum! I held what remained of her head in my arms and blew in her mouth like they do in the movies. I pumped her chest ... then I saw her leave, never to return. Her eyes were full of laughter only minutes earlier, then just emptiness. So I sat there in the blood and the mud as cars sped by, sometimes slowing down, but mostly not.

When it first happened I saw the semi-driver squeal to a stop at the bottom of the hill. He got out and took a short broom out of the cab. He used the handle to prize something out of the bull-bar ... so I started to run towards him. He hurriedly jumped back in the cab and drove away. Then I found her, all crumpled up like a pile of rags by the side of the road. I stared at the mess of it; the horror of it for a long while, but then the pile made a strange gurgling sound. "SHE'S ALIVE" my mind screamed in my head. I just have to blow in her mouth and she'll look at me, smile at me again ... just like in the movies! She just died instead!

So that's my truth Mum. I had to hide from the pain, the hollowness and madness inside that was devouring me. I never left you, it was never about 'you' ... I left 'ME' ... I left LOVE because love only causes unfathomable pain when it dies ... when she died ... when YOU died, Mum! I can tell you my story now, mum. Because you are no longer here to hear it, and never looked for me to ask what was wrong. I was home again, and that was all that mattered ... not whether I was OK! I was home again, the family was back together again ... we're all OK now ... every thing is fine again. It will be a lovely Christmas this year ... again!

I really love you Mum, but that doesn't mean I'm OK with it.