Disclaimer – I don't own Bleach. This was written for Wattpad's JustWriteIt challenge for May 2015. The theme was to write a story with at least ten-thousand words about a strong mother figure.
My Sunshine, My Strength
Introspection
To those concerned...
I'm honestly not sure where to start off what I feel I need to say. I guess I should start off with the fact I've messed up, and I don't know how to fix things. I find myself wondering why things ended up this way, but I also don't remember and that is part of the problem.
How can a mother not remember her own child?
I guess some people would use that as an excuse. Not remembering is an excuse for abandoning him as an infant. Not remembering is an excuse for not ever being in his life. Not remembering is an excuse for never being in that precious child's life. Not remembering is an excuse for not acting as a mother even after I did become a part of his life.
Not remembering is not an excuse for pretending later on one still doesn't remember. Not remembering is not an excuse for not telling him the truth once I did remember. Not remembering...
Some things don't make up for what's been lost by myself and what's been lost by that precious child. I could have held that child's hand as he grew up preventing him from facing as much pain. Instead he ended up alone and isolated with very few to care for him. Yes. He ended up being raised by a strong woman who ended up shaping him into a wonderful young gentleman.
I didn't play a role in the way he's ended up.
I guess that isn't important though. I can't brush away this ache about how much I missed of him growing up, and how much I am missing because he doesn't know I'm his mother. I wanted to hold that child's hand when he was little, and I want to hold his hand now. This child though is growing up to fast, and I think I may be to late.
To those concerned...
I think I'm to late.
- From Matsumoto Rangiku