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TODAY MARKS SIX YEARS SINCE my mum died.
Six long years and the pain hasn’t dulled. Not even a little. I’ve been dreading this day for months. October 25th.
The day my dad stumbles out to drown himself in alcohol, only to come home and let the weight of it all consume him. He goes crazy -on me, on Cora, on everything around us.
It always feels like the wound reopens on this day. I still remember what life was like back then, when I was just ten, and she was alive. Back when everything felt whole. Back when I didn’t fully understand.
I didn’t understand why my mum would disappear into her room, sinking into her bed for days at a time. Why she didn’t smile or laugh the way she used to? Why she seemed so far away even when she was right there?
And I didn’t understand the pills.
Why did she take them?
Why did she take so many?
Was it an accident? Or… did she mean to leave us?
She never left a note. No explanation. No answers to the endless questions that still haunt me.
But I knew something was wrong. Even as a kid, I felt it in my gut. I’d beg her to come out of her room, to get out of bed, to just try. I made her breakfast that she wouldn’t touch. I curled up on the floor beside her bed because I couldn’t bear to leave her alone. I knew something was wrong.
But I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t stop it.
She wasn’t always like that though. She used to take me to the park, make my favourite chocolate chip pancakes, and sit with me for hours watching movies. I still remember the way she smiled at me; so bright, so full of love. She’d tell me how much she loved me, and I believed her with my whole heart.
Then everything changed.
It’s like she became someone else overnight. All those pieces of her -the warmth, the laughter, the love- just vanished. What replaced them was… emptiness.
From what I’ve pieced together, she had depression. But I still don’t know why. I don’t know what happened to her. What broke her so badly that she couldn’t put herself back together? None of us know.
And that’s what tore my dad apart. The not knowing. It’s what drove him to the bottom of a bottle, night after night. He couldn’t save her, either. And now, he takes all that anger and grief out on everyone else. On me and especially on my little sister. Cora.
She looks just like Mum. A perfect replica. And that’s why he lashes out at her the most. Because every time he looks at her, he’s reminded of the woman he couldn’t save. The love he couldn’t hold onto.
Ever since then, I had to protect her. From his insults, from his yells, from his drunk actions. He didn’t care how much he hurt her but I did.
And I saw it. I saw how after every interaction with him she changes. It worries me because I don’t want her to be another woman in my life that I couldn’t save.
I really want to believe that he isn’t a bad man but the stuff he says and does is making me think otherwise. But I know he’s broken. I know the death of my mother broke him and that’s why he acts the way he does. It’s not an excuse though, it’s an explanation and just that.
The front door slams open, startling me from where I sit on the couch. I don’t need to look to know who it is. The heavy, uneven footsteps, the smell of alcohol that seemed to invade the air can only mean one thing. My dad is home.
He stumbles into the room, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. His face is twisted with the kind of anger I’d seen too many times before, an anger that had nowhere to go but out.
“Where’s Cora?” he slurs, his voice already loud, already demanding.
“She’s out,” I reply evenly, keeping my tone calm. “She’s staying at a friend’s house tonight.”
It wasn’t a lie. I had dropped her off earlier, knowing exactly what would happen if she stayed home. She doesn’t need to see this. Not again.
“She’s out?” His voice rose, his words biting. “You’re lying to me. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, boy.”
“I’m not lying, Dad,” I insist, my heart pounding in my chest. I force myself to stay still, to stay calm. He’s looking for a fight, but I can’t give it to him. Not when he’s like this.
“Don’t you talk back to me,” he snaps, his voice venomous. He staggers closer, his presence looming. “You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know what’s going on in my own damn house?”
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can say anything, his hand shoots out. He shoves me hard and my back slams into the kitchen counter. The sharp edge digs into my ribs, a searing pain shooting through my side.
I wince, my breath hitching as I instinctively grab the edge of the counter for support. But I don’t push back. I don’t yell. I can’t.
“Where is she?” he yells again, his voice echoing in the small space.
“I told you,” I repeat through gritted teeth, willing my voice to stay steady. “She’s out. She’s not here.”
But he doesn’t hear me. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.
He turns and storms toward the stairs, muttering curses under his breath. I stand frozen for a moment, the pain in my side throbbing as I try to steady my breathing.
I don’t have time to think about this.
Ignoring the ache in my ribs, I push off the counter and follow him up the stairs.
“Dad, she’s not here!” I call after him, my voice firm but desperate. “She’s not-“
He doesn’t listen. He never listens.
He reaches Cora’s room and shoves the door open with enough force to make it slam against the wall. Her bed is neatly made, the room exactly as she’d left it before I dropped her off earlier. But that doesn’t stop him.
“Where the hell is she?!” he roars, his anger boiling over.
“I told you, she’s not here!” I plead, stepping into the doorway. “She’s not here, Dad!”
He doesn’t believe me. His eyes dart around the room as if she might magically appear and when she doesn’t, his anger explodes.
He rips open drawers, tossing their contents onto the floor. He knocks over her bedside lamp, sending it crashing to the ground. He yanks the blankets off the bed, throwing them aside in a wild frenzy.
“Stop it!” I shout, my voice cracking as I lunge forward. I grab his arm, trying to pull him back. “Dad, stop!”
But he’s too strong and the alcohol had made him even more reckless. He shoves me off, his eyes wild and unfocused.
“She’s gone!” he bellows, his voice breaking. “She’s gone, just like her mother!”
The words hit like a punch to the chest, but I didn’t back down. I open my mouth to reply but nothing comes out. I don’t know what to say.
His shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him as quickly as it had come. He stands there amidst the chaos he’d created, his chest heaving and his hands trembling.
Then, like a switch had been flipped, his anger crumbles into something else. Something raw and heartbreaking.
He sinks onto the edge of Cora’s bed, burying his face in his hands.
“She left me,” he chokes out, his voice thick with tears. “She was my everything and she fucking left me. Why?”
My throat tightens as I stand frozen in the doorway, watching the man who had spent years burying his pain in anger and alcohol finally let it spill out.
“I don’t know, Dad,” I mutter softly, my own voice threatening to break. “I don’t know.”
He starts to sob, his shoulders shaking as the weight of it all comes crashing down.
I hesitate for a moment before stepping forward. Slowly, carefully, I place a hand on his shoulder.
“Come on, Dad,” I say gently. “Let’s get you to bed.”
He doesn’t resist as I guide him to his feet and lead him down the hall to his room. He sits on the edge of his bed, his head hanging low as I pull the blanket over him. Before I turn to leave, he mutters something under his breath.
“Connie…”
I stop, glancing back at him.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”
The words twist something inside me but I don’t respond. Instead, I turn off the light and step out into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind me.
As I stand there, staring at the mess he’d left in Cora’s room, a familiar ache settles in my chest.
This is the only time I have ever seen him cry. The only time I’ve seen him vulnerable, broken, and raw.
And it’s always on this day.
October 25th.
The day everything fell apart.
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