Yesterday was the first time I rode an ambulance alone with her on a stretcher, I was inside but it felt like I wasn’t there, I felt like I lost my other senses and my face was empty. All I heard and felt were the wallops of siren piercing my whole being, as if there were an earthquake shaking me, and the rush pouring all over, running faster than time. But I was hollow, as if I don’t know who I am and I don’t know how to feel anymore.
I saw how her face melted, and how she told me she wants to sleep now. She was whispering my name, and I wanted to sink right at that moment. I wanted to change my name, and pretend I don’t care. I was scolding myself to not cry, to set aside the pain in my head, to swallow what I want to vomit, to be still, because I have no choice but to be…
I realized how different it is when you’re the only one on their sides, when all you have is yourself to hug and to comfort during those times.
I knew I was my mother yesterday, who have experienced and did the same thing for her parents and for me way back.
And adulthood proved me once again of how strong I can be, what I can do and how I can survive, on a different aspect of life.
I know it was the siren of the ambulance that hit my head and left a mark I wouldn’t erase. And then phone calls, phone calls… I can’t forget the reverberating sounds.
I saw a lot of people I wouldn’t dare to look at before… I always say how I hate hospitals. I couldn’t stand to look at them because there’s always a punch in my heart, a pain that lingers within them that I can feel too, that’s so much to bear. But chance took me, I watched them. I witnessed how strong they are. I witnessed a lot of fighters beating death, forcefully but more solemn than wars.
It’s really a wonder how people always survive and choose to survive.
I love you Mama. I acquired my strength from you, I repeatedly witnessed how strong your soul is. I know you’ll rise in no time.
© Image from Brooke Shaden Photography