I have somehow found my way onto this blog platform amidst my grief of losing my Mother to Mental illness this summer. Grief continues to be strange unfamiliar partner. It follows me wherever I go. It hits you not like a brick at a time but a freight train …day in day out at certain unexpected moments. Just when you feel as though you can momentarily escape the ceaseless pain of the thought of your mother’s tragic and avoidable death you break down crying on the verge of losing all your senses. Oddly, it is as if this deeply buried within primal part of you , the human condition, of the abject is screaming to be let to surface.
The last twelve weeks have been a surreal nightmare chaining me in its endless realm unable to escape. I am finding myself unable to understand how it could have come this far… How can my own sister push her mother away and send her to wander the streets admits the haze of schizophrenia? Why did everyone tell me they noticed my Mother getting ill but still no one stepped in to help? Why …..? Why did the doctor fail her when she asked for help? Why ….? I am tortured by these questions. I am tormented by the not knowing what transpired the last twenty four hours my mother was alive.
Guilt, oh guilt creeps in. If only you would have been living in Germany instead of America just maybe then no then you would have been able to notice the signs. How could I miss the signs? We phoned frequently and texted each other weekly. Oh, how one becomes so consumed with one’s life failing. Yes, the guilt there it is again.
The hurt, the all consuming blend of hurt and guilt and confusion. Hurt amplified by the ill treatment your mother received by others. Hurt…..Words? How to put into words the pain of loss.