I remember I was the last person from the cemetery, seeing him for one last time was the only thing that was going to help me face tomorrow. Now my garden that was promising to be fruitful was turning grey, I thought about my mother and wept more. I reached in my pockets for a packet of smoke and light up, I looked at his grave and I pulled the life out of the cancer stick shortening mine. I wanted to kneel down and ask God it had to be like this yet again I asked myself if God was worthy to listen to my prayers for the days that I have stepped my foot in church were only a handful.
After a while I was forced to go part time from full time with my studies, we changed places to stay each month for we could no longer afford to rent out a full flat like we used to. I became used to the nomadic way of life that I was now enveloped in. one night while thinking my mother was at a friend’s place, came my torment, she walked in the room drunk I thought well I could understand why but it turned to a nightmare when she asked me to go and sleep over her friends place, unbelievably she had made arrangements already.
I stepped out of the room with more questions than worries of which they suddenly got answered when she asked me to call in the man who was sitting in the kitchen to come, it was late for me to get myself over to my prescribed and fixed destination I decided to go back for blankets. My mother was already half-naked when I walked in the man was undressing this woman whom I called mother. I looked at my drunken mother and became powerless to even utter a word.
I rolled and twisted on the cold hard kitchen floor the whole night, awake thinking of the chapter that had just open before me. I was having issues with my society discriminating me for being lesbian and now my mother has just turned out to be a hooker. Something inside me died that same night, I lost the significance of life for the revelation was not of any divine nature but who was I to lay judgement upon her deeds. It’s a free world I thought and she has every right to decide and choose the way she wants to live her life as much as I did choose this path. I got up and found myself in the bathroom with a razor blade in my hand and a bath tub full of warm water.
‘’she is going to be ok’’, a woman’s voice said gently and with compassion, those were the words that brought me to open my eyes. I was so frail and i felt no strength in my arms I tried to raise my heard up before I could finish my mother helped me sit up properly. Both of my wrists were in bandages,’’ you lost a lot of blood and thank heavens you survived’’, the same voice that made utterance earlier was from a nurse who was trying to make me feel lucky to be alive.
thought lucky wasn’t a proper word so I replaced it with blessed to be alive yet again I thought it could have been better would have been with my dad by now than being made to sleep on the mat next to my mother’s office where she only take night shifts anyway I am just a social misfit who now finds comfort in my words and in them I know how to face tomorrow.