“Please wake up”.
There I was, in the first grade at six years young, witnessing my own mother attempting to commit suicide. I was so young I didn’t actually know what was happening, but I did know that she wasn’t breathing. It was the four of us, and we were crying our eyes out hoping she would wake up. “Please wake up” I said as tears fall down my cheeks and onto my shirt. Just please wake up.
Typically, most people won’t have to live through these kinds of moments at such a young age. Normally, kids and families shower each other with love and affection, have family picnics with friends and relatives, enjoy their childhood, and not have to face the harsh realities of death, sadness, depression and loneliness at a young age.
My mother faced many demons, many of which I didn’t know about till much later (and many more that I still am not aware of). When we were growing up, we lived through an extremely rough childhood as my father would constantly scream and shout at us while our mother would guzzle another 12-pack of bud-light. And after that, my dad would go on to scream at our mother, which then our mother would scream right back at us. We were just kids….
Every day felt like misery; there were so many memories of me crying in my bed, praying I wouldn’t be screamed at again. My siblings went through the exact emotions – we would fear our lives.
I’m 31 years old now, but those memories have never disappeared. Sometimes I let it motivate him to do better, to achieve more, and to continue pushing. But at times, those memories stick like mud in my head – I’m constantly reminded of it. And it sucks, for lack of a better term.
My mother ended up passing away almost 15 years ago from a liver disease while I was still in high school. And yet again, just like that moment in 1st grade, we were all there to witness her death. I witnessed her last breath, down to the last hour and minute. I have never, nor will I ever, forget that moment.
Together With You.
For those who have experienced something similar, just know that I empathize with you. I cry for you, because I know what it was like. It’s extremely painful, and sometimes there is no one else who can understand. But I do. There are people out there who have experienced something similar, and I hope our voices are heard.
One Man Party