The other day, my mum left the house just like any other morning. She messaged me to ask if Id had breakfast. I replied, Yes, well talk later, then went back to work. She wasnt ill, she wasnt in the hospital, there was no anxious goodbye or sign. It was just an ordinary daythe sort you think will never change a thing.
At four oclock, my phone rang from an unfamiliar number. It was a neighbour. She said, Your mums had an accident. I asked where she was, and she told me which clinic. I rushed over immediately. They explained shed fallen on the pavement, hit her head, and there was nothing they could do. No drama, no final words.
There were no last sentences, no embraces, not even a moment to say anything. I just stood there, staring at a blank wall while someone explained paperwork, documents, and procedure. My hand shook as I phoned my brothers, struggling to utter the hardest words Ive ever spoken: Mums gone.
The real blow wasnt at the clinic. It hit me when I went alone to her house to collect her things. I opened her wardrobe and her clothes were still hanging, waiting to be washed. Her sandals lay by the door, her purse draped over a chair, shopping still half unpacked. Everything was frozen, stopped at that exact moment when life ceased.
I picked up one of her shirts to pack it up, and the familiar smell of her soap clung to the fabric. I stood holding it, unable to move. I sat down on her bed and stared at the floor for ages. The anger rose in my chest.
Then came the little things that hurt the most: dialling her number out of habit, only to remember shes not there, coming home from work and realising no one will ask if I got back safely, walking past her house and not going in. No one prepares you for that silence.
Everyone says, It was her time, God has his reasons, Shes at peace now. But I dont feel peace. I feel emptiness. I feel she left on a random day, without permission, without warning, without time to comfort my heart.
And thats the hardest part: it wasnt a farewell. It was a sudden, blunt cut.
