Capítulo 7: Chapter five

I've never been anywhere alone.

Ever since I could remember, I've always had my mum beside me. No matter what.

I guess it became an omnipresent part of my life. It was second nature to reach up, stout baby fingers stretching, to take Mum's hand to cross the road. When I injured myself, the first name I would call was 'Mum', and she would always come, as quick as she could, to help me up and whisper reassuring words in my ears.

Primary school became seven long years of carpooling, and I was either at a friend's house or at extracurricular activities. At the time I didn't realise how much of a pain and a bore it must've been for my mum to take me everywhere, but when I think back, she never complained once. Even when my friends and I were unbearably loud in the backseat or incredibly obnoxious in public.

During high school, when I had a bad day, or was overwhelmed with my school work, Mum would sit beside me, comfort me, talk to me, let me cry, and then put me to bed early, setting my alarm clock to go off later than usual because she had always offered to drive me to school instead of taking the bus.

And even on the day that I sat beside her on her deathbed, when she should've been the one losing it, not me, she took my warm hands in her cold ones, thin, skeleton-like fingers brushing over my knuckles, a gesture that had always calmed me down.

When I was told that Mum, the strongest person I knew, would not live, I could not believe my ears. I pressed my hands into my ears until I had a migraine, I stamped my feet until my heels ached and ached, and I squinted my eyes shut as tight as I could, refusing to let the tears fall out.

I could not be weak.

When I sat beside my beautiful Mum on her final day, knowing but not accepting reality, all I could think about was every single time I asked for permission to do things on my own.

"Mum, I can do it myself."

"I don't need help."

"Why can't I go on my own?"

And every time I answered back to her, my Mum didn't scold me like she should've for being rude, but she would smile instead, take my hand in hers and say, "Next time."

And almost every time she said that, I would either give her some more bratty responses or get up and leave.

Now I know why Mum wouldn't let me.

When I was young, she said no to things that I understand now; I needed to be protected. But when I grew into an arrogant and stubborn teenager, all Mum wanted to do was spend more time with the selfish me.

I mentally-slapped myself.

The entire visit to the hospital, although hours long, felt like a couple minutes. Time was running out for me to apologise. But when I had finally gotten the courage to say something, Mum started speaking.

"Give me your hands, and open them like this." She opened her fists, jittery palms up.

I followed her direction straight away, but I didn't want anything that I could hold in the palm of my hand; I wanted Mum.

"Close your eyes," she murmured calmly.

I did so, but I was anxious for what she was going to give me.

Something feather-light dropped into my palms, and I immediately opened my eyes and glanced down. It took me a minute to register what they were, and my Mum was there, smiling wide, waiting for my reaction.

I willed my tears to stay away, but I could feel my lips quivering, and I picked up and put the tickets on the bedside table. No matter how much I asked, my Mum always gave, gave, gave.

"Mum… n-no," I mumbled.

She chuckled quietly, and when she reached up her frail hand to cup my cheek, I saw all of her for the first time. I saw the golden ring that hovered over her head, and her bright wings, made of pure light; an angel and Mum. Mum was the angel.

I couldn't help it. I let a tear fall, and it dripped onto my Mum's hand. I tried to push her hand away; I didn't want my dirty tears on her precious hand, but she didn't budge. She kept her hand glued to my face as if I was the breath she needed to live, and I cried more.

"I know how much you want to go," she told me. "So I had a little discussion with your dad, and he had a discussion with Charlie's and Ben's parents…"

"No, Mum…"

"They said yes, honey. At the end of year twelve, you'll be, what's the word, chilling on a cruise ship with your two best friends. After your H.S.C, you'll deserve it, Harry." She brushes my stray hairs, tucking them behind my ear.

"Mum, I don't want to go on holiday… I want you to stay."

She smiled at me again. "You can bring me with you in your heart, Harry."

You left too quickly, Mum. You wanted me to give me everything, and I was selfish to never realise everything you did for me. But I'll be doing a lot more for you now, Mum. You would prefer me not to, I know, but I'm here now, Mum. Thank you. And I'm sorry.

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