Broken Armor

I was the one to find my mother inches away from death. Her robotic voice and the obscure words she said to me before I saw her, terrified me beyond belief.  No one can connect with that. The thought of losing something so precious is inconceivable to every child. No one else can understand how you feel, even if their story is similar. We all go through a different hell. I think Stephen King aptly described that emotion in his book, 'The Shining' when Danny Torrance, the protagonist, is forced to face the thought of his mother being murdered.

"Yet he could not equate these simple symbols with the shifting complex reality of his mother; she satisfied his childish definition of eternity, She had been when he was not. She would continue to be when he was not again. He could accept the possibility of his own death, he had dealt with that since the encounter in Room 2.13.

But not hers.

Not Daddy’s.

Not ever."

The only thing that helped me overcome my dark time was the love, support and comfort my family and friends supplied me with. My true family came to visit and did everything in their power to help. They sent food, money, and good wishes. They did so out of love and loyalty and not obligation, and they might never know how indebted to them I  truly am.

My real friends kept in touch. They listened to me vent, they hugged me and held me close on the days I could do nothing but cry. They told me I was beautiful when my face was streaked with tears and when my hair was messy. They supported me and understood when I got uncontrollably upset for insignificant things. They knew, as did my family, without me telling them, that my armor was broken and that I had lost a part of myself.