don't read this

i had a flashback today. it struck this morning while i was drinking coffee staring at my computer screen. i heard a song in my head. it wasn't a particularly pretty song. it was a song played from a jewelry box. you know, one of those obnoxious ones with a ballerina on top and spins with the music that is playing?

i hear this horribly metallic tune (in my head) from a child's jewelry box and it took me to a place i haven't been to in a while. i am crouched under a table with my brother. it's not just any table - it's the ones on wheels that they bring to your bed in a hospital. i smell medicine and plastic tubes and latex gloves and floor cleaning solution. it's an awful mixture, but a familiar smell. it's easter sunday and the nurses brought my brother and i easter baskets filled with chocolate and plastic eggs filled with various plastic treasures. i look out from beneath this fortress of a table and see my grandmother. her face is stained with mascara washed away by her tears falling down her cheeks. my heart feels heavy with grief. i love my grandma very much and hate to see her in such pain. it's time for us to go. i come out from underneath the table with my basket of goodies. i am struck with confusion. my mom is lying on the bed. she's clutching my grandma's hand like she never wants to let go. her once beautiful face is sunken and pale. her hair is limited to a downy covering so fine the hairs dance in the current from the air conditioner running from above. suddenly i am very aware of what is happening. we are saying goodbye. my mom gives me this jewelry box as an easter present. she wipes tears from her eyes and tells me she doesn't know when she will see me again. i don't really understand what is going on, but rather than ask what she means i yell at my brother who is out in the hall tugging on the pants of a nurse asking for more chocolate. i am so, so angry at him for ruining this moment that i am desperately escaping by yelling at him.

with that, my flashback ends. i don't know if i saw my mother again. my mind is clouded with indecipherable memories and smells and pictures in my head. i get mad because i can't figure them out. but i was only 5 when my mom died. how could i have possibly understood? i just wish i knew more.

the reason i am writing this down is to make sure i don't forget. how i could i don't know. but these memories, though sometimes painful, are mine. they keep me connected to my blood, my heart. my mind buzzes and my hands shake and my throat closes and it's hard to breathe. but at least i feel alive.