Welcome Home

The trials this family had, weathered through, it’s still, ALL because of fate, or you can see it as the WRONG decision that the woman’s father made in his life, that’s caused, this huge, ripple effect on his families, translated…

In the ward, I’d heard you called out to me clearly, “You’re here?”

But unfortunately, that was, only a dream, and, at the moment my tear ducts start overflowing, the reality slaps me, hard, that feeling of sourness, rushed into my stomach at the same time, causing, my stomach to turn.

“I’m having a stomach ache”, I’d lain on my bed, moaned quickly, and, allowing that silence that surrounded me, to gnaw away my consciousness.

Only when my father needed money, would he show that look of not knowing what to do, told me, “Do take good care of yourself”, I’d fallen, silent. “One day, you will come to understand, that there’s no one else better to you than your own parents.” And you, had always, consoled me repeatedly, and, your hands are just like magic, pulling me toward the hospital.

“Fine, let’s go! It’s not like, we have all the extra cash”, I’d wanted to tell you, but I don’t know why, before you, I’d just, wanted to be, a little girl, especially when I’d, failed at something, and gotten, scolded by my parents. At this time, you’d, looked somewhat remorseful, and as I grew up, to the point that you can no longer, comfort me with your arms, your expressions turned to a sort of a helplessness.

You’d taken out loans from all over the places, to help make the needed cash for father’s care.

this was, what the road home looked liek, so desolate, so barren…photo from online…

“There’s, no one better, than our parents”, you’d, still repeated, and dragged those legs that stopped listen to you anymore, until all of our friends, relatives, ducked us and hid away, until there were, words that spread from out, until I’d found you, hitting your head with your hands, I’d become, so thrilled I’d, fallen, silent. No longer complained on my body feeling ill, no longer spoken ill of my own parents, I’m, only your granddaughter, what sort of a trial in life, can make a mother desert her own child?

Until I’d started out on my own, and, when I’d had my awful stomach aches, I’d called you up, you’d still consoled, “No matter what they did, your parents never, intended, to hurt you”, and every time you’d told me this, I’d felt, angst, agitated, and, just wanted to, hang up.

illustration from the papers online…

“You had so many nightmares when you were younger, and cried and run to my room,” you’d, continued, “then, you’d, asked me, why your home is different than everybody else’s?” “Grandma’s working on it, so, you need to work hard too, okay?” I do not recall what I’d said back then, only knew, that by the time I hung up the phone, I was, crying like hell, and fallen onto my bed, and allowing my tears, to stain my pillow, and, started, swimming in the salty sea of my dreams then.

The ship sank, and I awoke, you’d fallen down, and forgotten how hard you’d, formerly worked, and lost your memories of being with us all, your grayish black pupils became, diluted, and, as I’d moved closer to you, it no longer, reflected my image in your eyes/

Suddenly, I’d felt, relieved, thank heavens, you no longer needed to work hard anymore, nor would you need to, go out, and prod around, to see how much debts my father had, accumulated.

Only in your dreams, you get to, maintain your own home, and, someday, one day, including my father and I, will all, show up in that home in your dreams, smiled and told you, “You’re, home at last!”

And so, in this sense, the dementia of this elderly grandmother would be considered a blessing, because, all the memories of the past were, too harsh for her to handle, and, this elderly woman, became, nothing more than an empty shell of what she used to be…