Here We Stand [H.S]

128.

There comes a time in your life when you have to face up to something and think each time around you are able to deal with emotions and heartbreak much better than the last time.

But then there's always something that will smack you right between the eyes or right into the pit of your stomach that will force you back down to square one again.

And that's where I was right now.

I had faced the loss of my parents, the fear of breast cancer, the potential loss of my fertility and the loss of my hair, a break up with the love of my life, the absolute joy of finding out about Oscar and then the devastating torture and heartbreak of losing the son I never thought I would have.

But I was still here, I was still alive and not beaten down... until today.

For a split second, the minute you are punched between the eyes or hit in the spot of your stomach with the news of something in particular, it makes you step back a little and feel completely weak inside.

There's no way to avoid it and if you try to fight those feelings, you know deep down that you are going to be making it ten times harder for yourself in the long run... but I still couldn't shut down the thoughts and feelings that were currently causing havoc inside my brain.

Devastation didn't even cut how I was feeling right now.

The revelation of my mother's death, her true death, was painful for me to relive and even though I had never met her properly, even though I didn't know how she smelled or what her voice sounded like, it felt like I had lost her all over again.

Everything that had been read to me by Harry so far in my father's letter had been stirred up a brand new cauldron, concocted of bubbling feelings and mixed emotions that were boiling to my breaking point.

I had grieved for her throughout my entire life, wishing that she had been there for my birthdays, my parties, that she was there when I told her about the first boy I kissed, wishing that she'd let me borrow her make-up and jewellery; giving me advice, teaching me right from wrong and how to be a good person... but I never had any of that, because she chose to die and leave me.

What sort of mother does that?

Why would you inflict that sort of pain and heartbreak on your child, knowing that he or she would have a life without you?

How could you let your child grow up without those special kisses at night, the whispers of 'I love you' and the soft lullabies that would send you off to sleep?

How could she do that to me, to us?

I felt, truthfully, that I was grieving for her all over again; but only this time it was more real.

I was an adult now, a grown up apparently, old enough to know better... but I didn't know better, I didn't feel like a grown up and I certainly didn't feel like an adult, because if anything reading my father's letter and having his own words inside my head, made me feel like that scared, petrified child again... a little girl who just wanted her mummy.

I wished, that I had never had come here.

I wished that I could take it all back and change my mind at the last second, I wish I could tell myself not to come down here and that I was better off not knowing the truth, because the truth fucking hurts and it rips your heart out without a single care in the world.

The truth, emotionally and physically, batters you until you feel like you can't breathe anymore.

I wish I had never been given this letter, that I never had so many questions and that I was still none the wiser.