Alone

I’m alone in my flat, after taking Josh to school. I have three more days leave, including this one. Alone and bored, I played Diablo 3 some more, and my new character I mentioned the other day is now cruising through Torment 6 difficulty, ready to go to Torment 7. But I’m taking a break from playing to write.

A commenter, having read one of the posts about my mother, asked if we were unusually close, and how that came to be… I answered that having her live here brought us closer, but come to think of it, it’s more than that…

Is it not normal to be closer to one’s mother than one’s father? When my father died, it crushed me for a time, but not like this. This is much worse. When I think back, I have many happy memories of childhood. I had a good childhood. And almost every happy memory involves my mother. She was always there for me. She wasn’t perfect, to be sure. Those times when I misbehaved, she would give me a light hiding, one that I learned did not hurt, and would warn me that my father would be mad when he got home that night. But all he ever did was ask me to apologize to my mother. When we went through her things, I found an apology letter I’d written to her when I was about eight years old. She kept it all those years.

So we were always close. I was always able to talk to my mother, about anything, and while my father loved me and I loved him, he was always a little distant. It was to my mother that I went to talk about anything and everything that troubled me.

Ironically, there is only one other person that got as close to me, and that person is Megan – my ex and Josh’s mother. I would have loved to talk to her these last few weeks, but her phone has been off again and I suspect that something in her life is wrong (again). I have spoken to Aishah, Josh’s sister though, when she visited her grandmother. I will get back to this point further on…

Even Josh has raised this subject, not about her, but about mothers. At school, his teachers always assume that every child has a mother, and when mentioning that anything must be given to parents, or discussed with parents, or that parents must be asked for money, they always mention the children’s mothers. This annoys him, because he only has me. But it does highlight the fact that mother normally plays a greater role than father to most children.

So returning to my empty flat was a miserable moment. My mind flashed back to so many memories… every day when I got home from work, she was there, and I was always greeted by the smell of food cooking. At other times like weekends, she’d be sitting on the balcony reading a book, or reading a book on her bed. Every second week I’d take her to the library. But after she died, I had to return her library books and tell the librarian that she’d died. Likewise I took her to her hairdresser once a month, and I went and told the hairdresser that she wasn’t coming back.

I miss all those conversations that we had, and all those that we will never have again. All the comments she made about my boss, when I came home late from work, kept in meetings that ran after hours, I miss those too.

I’ve come to realize that my mother became something more the last few years. After my relationship with Megan ended, after I spent years trying to make it work even though it could not, I lost all interest in dating and pursuing a relationship with anyone else. But I didn’t have to think about it. With both my mother and my son here, there was always company. There was an excuse not to date. I didn’t feel alone or lonely. Now, suddenly I am alone. Suddenly I have nobody to share those most private thoughts and words. It feels strange, and it hurts.

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