Stanzas: Monthly Chapbooks November 2014: Remembrance | Page 22

but there on the heath I felt her spirit, the memory of her, and she
spoke to me. ‘Why now, Mum? Why didn’t you come before?’
‘Because you didn’t need me.’
‘But I wanted you.’
‘Want and need are two very different things, Jazz, never
forget that.’
I began to cry, knowing exactly why she’d come now. Knowing
exactly why I needed her. ‘What should I do Mum? What’s the
answer? You always had the answers.’ I sobbed between sentences,
overcome by years of memories, both happy and sad. Memories
of a time when she was there with me, guiding me through, and
memories of the day she left. With us around her bed, holding
her hand, giving her comfort at the close.
The hand that wasn’t there wiped a tear from my cheek and
the eyes that weren’t there glistened as they held my gaze.
‘You know the answers, Jazz. You always know the answers.’
‘But I don’t this time, Mum, I just don’t. Why can’t I see? I’ve
reached the fork in the road and I don’t know the right way to
turn –’ Placing her ephemeral finger over my lips she hushed me,
neither abrupt nor soft, simply comforting.
‘You see, Jared, you forget that this isn’t the first fork in your
road, nor is it going to be your last.
Holding onto the past is important, but so is letting it go. It’s
time now for you to decide for you, not for everyone else. Your
memories will always stay with you, even after you’ve let go of
the pain.’ She spoke with that tone a loving mother uses. That
soft and warm, caramel-smooth kindness.
‘I know,’ I murmured in reply, in resolution. She was right, as
she so often was in life. The time had finally come for me to let
go of the past. To let go of arguing for the sake of arguing. To
let go of Dad after too many pints. To let go of broken windows
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