Ever since I was little, I would come out to the firescape.
When my parents would argue
When I came out
When my mother got diagnosed with cancer
When my mother died...Among other things as well.
My father stuck around until I turned 18, and I don't mean as soon as the clock struck twelve on my birthday soon.
He made sure I was secure, and able to support myself. Then he left me, and moved to god knows where.
For both me and him my mothers death had forever ingrained something that we could never forget or get over.
The apartment that I lived in since birth, is now mine. I'm a sophomore at NYU and studying to be a psychiatric counselor for the terminally ill.
You'd think i'd want to distance myself from death as much as possible considering,..Though I don't.
Going with my mother to her treatments and seeing people in the same boat. Some worse, some better. Though they all have all been given a estimate on their days left. They're all going through therapy, even though they are going to die in a matter of months or years.
I can't ever imagine what my mother was feeling, how it felt to be given a number of how much time left you have left...with your loved ones.
The day she died was the worst day of my life, the day that the dynamic of my family changed.
My father spent less and less time at the apartment, and so did I. I hated being in the apartment so much, there's nights i'd sleep out on the firescape. I always found being out there somewhat therapeutic. I never had anyone to talk to though.
Who did my mother talk to about how she felt especially when she was sick. My father? What about the people who had nobody, and had an internal clock counting down to the day their sickness kills them. What about them?
I guess that's how I came to the decision.
YOU ARE READING
The Firescape
General FictionHave you ever spent years sitting on a firescape. Where on the opposite side is an empty apartments half of the firescape. The apartment being vacant for as long you remember...and one day someone moves in.
