A daughters pain

A Daughters Pain

Down deep, startling and frightening feelings emerge. An overwhelming since of truth slides its way into the core of my gut.

The sickness is showing now, an emaciated walking skeleton with sunk in eyes with a yellowish tint emerging. She walks slow and unsteady nightmarishly resembling the walking dead. Her eyes full of pain and despair. Darkness and death wrap around her like a death shroud. Her once vibrant beautiful red hair had begun to fade and fall out. Her once tight fitting clothes now hang loosely from her body.

Slowly she limps towards the kitchen. Shaking she tries to pour water into a glass spilling some on the counter and floor. She sighs heavily as the tears moist her eyes. With her shoulders slumped over she carefully turns to grab the towel. With one hand on the sink for support she bends down to clean the mess from the floor. Determination and anger filled her face. She struggles to clean this however her struggles seem to do more with not wanting to be defeated by such a trivial task. Her body begins to shake uncontrollably. Her will and mind are strong but her body is week. Slowly she stands her mortal body defeating her spirit. She lays the towel upon the counter and tries trudging her way back to her rocking chair. The effort of her failed task has left her exhausted so she instead sits at the kitchen table with no energy left to go further. Fatigue slips from her as she lowers her head and rests it on her chest. With every breath her body slumps into an awkward position and tears fall slowly down her face and drip off the tip of her nose.

Quietly I rise and tip toe to the kitchen. I clean the water off the counter and the floor. I pour her another glass and gently place it in front of her. Her eyes are closed and she doesn’t respond to the sound of the glass hitting the table. I quietly retreat back to the living room and wait.

These moments have been happening more often than not. When these moments became normality her temper became harsh. I didn’t understand at first but then her body begun to change. I realized her sickness had come back. She allowed me to help at first but the worse it got the less she wanted my help so I learned to wait until she asked for me.

It became increasingly hard to watch her struggling over such small tasks. Sorrow filled me and the urge to jump up and help her overwhelmed me but causing her more grief hurt more. She tries so hard to pretend all is well and I know this is more for baby brother and me than for herself. Guilt brings tears to my eyes with the knowledge that baby brother and I put a tremendous burden on her and instead of being in bed where she needs to be she is up taking care of us.

I tried to fight back the tears knowing it will hurt her to see them, I know she needs me and so does brother. I have to stay strong for them.

She begins to stir. I believe she fell asleep but would never acknowledge it. I began to play with my little ponies. I don’t want her to know that I was worriedly watching her. She takes a deep breath, wipes her face and then notices the water on the table. She looks over at me with sadness on her face. She turns away and stares at the glass falling into deep thought. Tears fall down her cheeks once again. She wipes them with the back of her hand then lays her head in her hands. Soft whimpers escape her lips. I wipe away my own tears no longer able to stop them. Slowly I stand and very timidly I go to her scared that she’ll tell me to go away. I wrap my arms around her shoulders lightly. She raises her head and looks me in the eyes. Her eyes are red and puffy. Her nose is leaking and tears are falling like a rain storm. I slowly reach for a napkin on the table and I gently wipe her tears and then hand her one for her nose. I placed the used napkins down upon the table and wrapped my arms back around her. She stiffens up and my breath gets caught in my chest. I want to hold her and help her but fear of being pushed away scares me and the tears fall harder. I drop my head and slowly retreat. I feel her hand on my arm. I look at her and see a small hint of a smile. A smile that should’ve made me happy but it didn’t. That smile was a forced one trying to lie to me or maybe to herself that everything was okay. I tried to smile back to be brave to follow in her illusion that things were okay but my forced smile only brought more tears. She brought her hand up and wiped away the tears from my face then wrapped her arms around me. I fell upon my knees and let my head fall into her lap. I cried for her, for my baby brother and for myself. I knew she had given up trying to fight her illness. When my sobbing trickled to a quiet labored breath she grabbed my arms and guided me to my feet. An anguished look of sorrow spilled out of her eyes, another apology unspoken. Once again she presented a false smile of hope. She hugged me briefly then sent me to find brother. As I walked away she unsteadily got to her feet.

I wanted to run to her and tell her everything would be ok that I would take care of her and brother better. I wouldn’t argue or fight with her any more. I watched her limp to the phone hanging on the wall and everything inside me exploded. The ugly truth that I tried to push away came at me with a vengeance. I knew what that phone call meant. I felt lost and alone in a world I had no control over.

As she lifted the receiver I closed the door. I walked to the playground preparing myself for brother’s reaction and trying to decide what I was going to take with me to our new home filled with a new strange family