Give it to me

I am someone who needs to know, however bad it is, I need you to tell me the truth and not gloss it up or wrap it in pretty packaging, just the harsh reality, the naked truth.

When Mama was in hospital I looked the senior doctor in the eye, his name was George, tall, dark and handsome of Greek descent and asked him to tell me the truth, however bad, I could take it.  And he respected that and said he would want the same.  So he gave it to me.

It would take a miracle for your mother to pull through.  Miracles do happen but …

When I had to make the difficult decision of whether to fly back to work or stay till the bitter end I asked the consultant how imminent and her advice that I should stay answered my question.  In the end I did the right thing.  It would have been a lifelong regret and I would have been plagued with guilt. 

Weird but I always envisaged I would get that phone call in the middle of the night from my sister and be numbed.  In reality it happened very differently.  I was there at her bedside with the Prodigal Son whom she hadn’t seen for years and the Favourite Daughter who was always there came too late.  Ironic, or what?  The Black Sheep and the Prodigal Son there when Mama needed us most.  The Model Daughter needed her beauty sleep and was allergic to hospitals; it brought out a rash on her face.

Being there for Mama’s last breath was priceless.  At the end I hadn’t let her down, though I have felt that way from my first breath.  Part of the reason why I had stayed away and not been there for her as much as I should have.  My excuse, I had my own issues and health problems and then there was always the ‘Not good enough cos I am not a boy’ brick wall between us and feeling unloved and inferior.

Why is it that wisdom always comes too late after loss; my marriage, Mama, career, siblings …?

 

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About cho wan yau

Teacher by day poet/writer by night. Words have been my first love and will be my last. As a child I locked myself into the toilet devouring books which transported me to distant lands. Poetry shared penned from 2009-2010 in a titanic struggle to stay sane at Heartbreak Hotel. Please check it out on chowanyau@wordpress.com. Any comments or feedback welcome. Why not share your story with me, because we all have one, don't we?

Posted on January 9, 2014, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 10 Comments.

  1. hey, i’m exactly like that too, i know what you mean, i’m very sorry to hear about your mom passing away, hope you are doing fine.

    • Thanks Lula I’m ok, still miss her like mad and can’t quite believe she is gone but she lived to a good old age and was happy for the most part.

      How are you?

      • Glad to hear she had a nice and long life. I’m doing fine thanks, enjoying Mexico for a while, and you? Where in the world are you?

      • HK atm but I was brought up in London.

        Well Mama’s life wasn’t always happy and easy but she taught me how to be strong and rise above the shit that life throws at us.

      • And that’s one of the best gifts a mom can give, in my humble opinion.

      • absolutely, not humble at all, spot on; what I try to pass onto mine too. How’s Paula?

      • She’s doing great, thanks. Didn’t knew you had a kid too, how old is he/she?

      • 20 so a big kid and me and her have been through some shit together so I am confident she can handle anything Life decides to throw at her. She calls me Mum but she is more a best friend, life coach, fashion police and ex-counter of alcohol units no longer necessary as wine is too extortionate here and she is too far away in Oxford studying psychology. When asked why, so she can delve into why her mum is ‘abnormal’. Well she has a life of work cut out, deviant I am and proud of it. Normal is boring, who wants to be and what is ‘normal’ anyway? Being a clone, robot, programmed to believe every word we are told by authority who just want to control us and keep us in order??? No thanks.

      • You are one of my kind, i couldn’t agree more!

  2. Yep glad we have ‘met’, sister from another mother

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