Forty Days and Forty Nights

It took me all this time to gather enough willpower to articulate this in writing. Somehow it's always harder for me to write bad memories. I just feel like it means acceptance, for I am not yet ready to take that step. You see, my mother died recently. This is the 39th day since that fateful day, and today is the 40th day since she was rushed to the hospital.

My life is in turmoil, yet again. I find myself taking the mantle of responsibility my mother bore alone since my father died. Everything is still confusing, everyone still has their masks on. I have to unravel these things first, I have to discover the truth.

I found solace in new and untested friendships, to my surprise. My long time friends just seem too preocuppied by their own lives. I think we became apart too long, that we drifted too far away from each other now. But maybe I just didn't call for their help loud enough. It was just a surprise to me now, I realized, that the faint cry I could muster was heard by these new people in my life, and not by the friends I thought I could actually count on at all times.

But I can't be choosey, and I don't want to be. I can only be grateful.