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  • Writer's pictureOur stories

We never talk about it. My husband wants to talk about it but we never talked about it because he knows I don’t want to talk about it. I cannot look at a car’s front right now, because that was the last thing I remember. And it was a blackout. When I woke up, my eldest son is nowhere to be seen anymore. I don’t want to talk about it, because when you talk about it, you start healing. When you start to talk about it, you start finding a door to the solution. But I, at least now, do not want to admit and recognize. I always pretend he is still there. I know he’s still somewhere, somewhere in the world. In the car, I will not put my bag besides. I will leave the middle seat free because that’s where he used to sit. In the restaurant, we will order three pieces of bread and we eat three. The last one is supposed to be his. I am a resilient person, always had been. I have been through all of these, my mom’s death, my dad’s heart transplantation, youngest son three surgeries, and I all came through it. But this.. this is just too painful. I tried really hard really hard really hard. He was a boy with a golden heart. I never wanted to admit it, because I don’t want to say he “was”. Never.

  • Writer's pictureOur stories





  • Writer's pictureOur stories

When I was young, I always imagined I was the male version of Cinderella. Everyone’s families have a father and a mother. Yet, why was I different? Dad was more strict. I remember, in middle school, I wanted a smartphone. But, Dad said no, so I went to ask my mom, and she bought it for me, secretly. Situations like this happened many times, maybe because she didn't live with me very often, so she treated me differently and gave me the things I wanted.

Later, my father remarried. In spite of everything, my stepmother was not the one who gave birth to me, but I know she was trying to fill that maternal role. When I was young, I would often get sick. One time, as I was lying on the bed, I had gotten nauseous and vomited all over the bed. Then, my stepmother had helped me clean up the mess, without saying a word. I felt moved, as this was something that only a mother could do.

MK 2019/02/25

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