On the Loss of a Mother Who Lives
When a parent forces you to bury them while they still live and breathe
I couldn’t sleep.
The edibles and the herb didn’t do enough to keep me sleepy. It was hot and I was hydrated enough to feel like a racehorse. Then, I did what any normal person does when I get back to bed: I got on my phone.
I saw a text message from my mother, and though I normally ignore these until I am able to get a lot more rest (and that’s if I respond at all), the snippet of the message that I could see showed a death in our extended family. I was a little wary because talking to my mother often leads to her narcissistic rants and deviations where even my stories are opportunities for her to focus on how amazing she was. She interrupts me far too often and depending on my refusal to compromise my principles and morals on a topic, she will yell or raise her voice as if I’m not an adult. I thought that this conversation might be short and different because this was about a death. I also sent a text telling her I needed to get back to bed, so we needed to keep it short. That’s where I screwed up.
What a foolish thing to do. Immediately, I regretted making the call because I could be sleeping. That said, I had a joint and I wanted to smoke it, so I figured I could smoke it while learning…
