Sometimes mothers die.
Estellio
Pg
Summary: The title says it all.
A/n: Supreme angst. Just three pages of tears, unlike most of my other fanfiction so if you're looking for a laugh, here's definitely not the place to look. My mothers friend died and I'm not in a happy mood. I thought I'd get my feelings into words. I wasn't originally going to post it but when I read my friends fic that contained the same poem as the one there's an extract from here, the one that was read at the funeral, I decided I should.
IOIOIO
He was home, it felt so good to finally be home. He could smell freshly cut grass and revelled in it. Grass, something so simple, so taken for granted on earth but it was something he'd missed in that big city. The joy in his heart was the best thing he had ever felt in his life. He was sure he was just going to burst.
He. Was. Home…but something was wrong.
As he approached his mothers house he began to notice little things. The flower basket that held her award winning petunia's was bare. It was the middle of spring, they should have been in full bloom.
The gate was locked even though his mother always left it open, she said it was a sign to show that everyone was welcome.
The windows and curtains were all closed which didn't make sense considering it was the middle of the day. His mother loved the sunlight, she always complained it rained too much.
Just little things that were out of place, barely noticeable, but there. They jumped out at him and screamed 'SOMETHING IS REALLY WRONG!'
By the time he had gotten to the gate the joy in his heart was replaced by confusion and panic. The grass was over grown and weeds chocked her once beautiful flowerbeds.
Something was wrong, something was very wrong.
"Carson?" He turned to see Mrs. Baker standing at her gate. A small, hunched woman with curly white hair and the kindest, wrinkled face you'd ever see on a woman…but the look on that face. That was sorrow and sympathy.
"Mo Dia." It dawned on Carson. "My…my mother?"
"I'm sorry love." She said, rushing forward and gathering him into a hug. "I'm so sorry."
"NO!" It was a strangles cry as he fell back against the pillar of the gate. "No, no…how…when?" He felt the bile coming up his throat, the burning of his nose and the stinging of his eyes as his vision went blurry.
"She's been poorly for a while, she passed just over a week ago. I'm so sorry." Carson couldn't hear it, all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. A week ago he had feared for his life as Atlantis was overrun by Wraith. A week ago he had stared death in the face and sent it packing…it seems he had sent it packing to his mother's neatly swept doorstep. "My Mom?" He shook his head and picked up his bag.
"Are you alright dear, do you want to come into mine for a cuppa tea? I'll make you some tea dear." Carson opened the creaking gate, why did everyone presume that tea made everything okay. It didn't make this okay! This was his mother. His mother.
The woman who had kept her close to his heart for nine months, who suckled and changed him, who came to his football games, who made him wear a kilt to his uncles wedding, who reminded him to put a hoody on whenever he left the house, who made his meals and fussed over him when he got his first girlfriend, who helped him pay his way through College and told him his father would proud of the man he had become.
His mother. The one person in the world he could rely on and loved unconditionally.
"No, Mrs. Baker, I'd like to be alone for a little while if you don't mind." The old woman understood, how many pale, expressionless faces had she seen? Their eyes closed, never to open again, their hands crossed on their chests over a prayer book that would never be read and roserybeads clasped tightly that would never be prayed over.
By the time Carson had closed the door, he couldn't take it anymore. He fell to his knees and cried. He had no idea how long for but his eyes were raw and the sky was dark by the time he found the strength to move.
The house was quiet and smelt of air fresheners and popuri that had been sitting in an unaired house for too long. No smell of baking or bleach, his mother loved baking and was nearly obsessive about a clean kitchen. Carson had apparently got food poisoning when he was young and ever since she was very health conscious. Oh god, he'd never hear her remind him to wash his hands before dinner. Never taste her delicious Bannocks again, or Forfar Bridies. She had never told him how she made those little pies he loved so much. He hadn't seen her in over a year, not a letter, not a call…the tape. Had she gotten it? Did she know? He scrambled to his feet and ran into the living room, crouching down in front of the VCR he realised a tape was inside. He flicked on the Tv and VCR. "Hello mum." His own face looked back at him from the video and he smiled. She had gotten it, she knew. He had at least told her that he loved her. Now all he had to do was say goodbye.
IOIOIO
It was raining when he got to St. John's cemetery. He hadn't worn a hoody, he hadn't brought an umbrella or a coat either. It didn't matter, he didn't care. If he got hypothermia or pneumonia he could just go to hospital. This was important. He had to say goodbye.
"Hello mum." He said weekly. "I'm back…a little late but…" He shrugged, trying to force himself to make light of the situation and not to cry. "At least you got my tape. I wish I could have told you what I was doing. You'd be amazed. I'm helpin' ta save a galaxy, Mum. An entire galaxy. I also nearly wiped out a race called the Hoffan's. I told them, I warned them but they wouldn't listen…I wish…I wish I coulda told you before ya died. I've done so many things, I discovered a gene which allows us to use Alien Technology mum, I have it. They say it makes me special but I'm terrified of it, I'm afraid I'd hurt someone. Nearly blew up General O' Neill and Major Sheppard on me first day!" He chuckled to himself, wiping away a tear. "We're fighting a terrible enemy, mum. They're called the Wraith. I'm studying them now, even though Xenobiology isn't me field. They never die mum." He said, his mouth going dry and throat tightening almost unbearably. "They hurt people, suck the life out of them….they're bad. So very bad and they don' die. It's jus' not right, mum." He didn't even stop the tears that ran down his cheeks, mingling with the rain. "We're fighting them, though, trying to get rid of them so that the people of the galaxy can live in peace. That's right, mum, you're baby boy is in a war. I don't go round killing no one, jus' patchin' up the soldiers that do an' try an' find out ways to cure all the ailments. I make life better for people. Well, I try at least. In a few years, we hope to have figured out a way to make human's inedible for the Wraith. That way, maybe they'll starve and not put up much of a fight. I don' like the idea of killing of a specie, I mean, it's kinda like the cows killing us for eatin' them but…They're horrible. They look like fish people. It's shockin', I tell ya. Now I don' like going to war but being a gentle little lamb isn't gonna help no one. I know you don't really have security clearance but it's not like you're going to tell anyone now, is it? Now, I'm swearing ya ta secrecy mum. No gossipin' with all them other angels…" He took a deep breath and waited for his breathing to calm before going on. "I have a favour ta ask you, mind. Could ya…could ya get a few angels to watch over me and my friends. I think we need all the help we can get." Sobbing overcame him and for a few moment, all he could hear was the sound of his hitched breath and the pelting of the rain. Thunder boomed ominously in the distance. "I miss ya, mum. I wish, I wish I was here fer ya. I wish you were here fer me. I need you now more than ever. Mum…I love you…Slán. But I might be seeing you sooner than you'd think."
He placed a single white rose on the freshly turned Earth. The wreaths had since been removed and it stood alone, her favourite flower. He kissed the earth and rose. He had a plane to catch back to Atlantis and he knew his mother wouldn't want him to mourn over his grave like this. She even had it carved into her tombstone beneath her name and life span.
"Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!"
"But ya did die mum. Ya did. All mothers die."
IOIOIO
In memory of a woman who always wanted her son to wear a hoody going out. He never did and always got cold. Silly boy. We'll miss you and your popcorn.
