Mom was the only one
who believed in me.
She’d stand by the sidelines
cheering me on at baseball games
hands waving wildly in the air
yelling “go, go, go” when I hit the ball.
In school, when I struggled
she was the one who held my hand
even if she struggled to understand,
she would make certain
I always walked away doing my best.
In high school, I was the one who changed.
I pushed her away, started following the wrong crowd.
Each night as I partied with friends
she panicked, staying up late
to make sure I was still alive,
but it was not enough for me.
I pushed her away
I followed the wrong influences
I did not understand
but always… she was there for me
no matter how far I fell
no matter how huge my mistakes,
but I was younger then
I could not hear anything
over my own yearnings
whether it be – alcohol or drugs
depending on who
I was spending my time with.
She tried – she always tried to do her best
and I could not bring myself to sober up
until it was much too late.
Back at the college dorm, I got the call
mom had been in an accident.
someone drove on the wrong side of the road
and it was much too late for her to escape it.
They say she felt no pain, it was over quick –
but nothing could cure the massive guilt I carried.
At her funeral, I was afraid to come close
I stood way in the back – I panicked.
There was so much I wanted to say
but I knew it was too late to say it.
Eventually, I made my way to her casket
and through thick tears, I promised
I would become the man
she had strived so hard to raise,
and I’ve been sober ever since.
© Sumyanna 2017
Written for The Daily Post Prompt: panicked
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com