I skip down the busy streets of the city. I see trains rumbling by and people flustered with all the shopping they have. My life is great. I have a family, a home and well, happiness. I am always happy never sad it’s probably because my parents love me. Every Sunday my parents and I go to the beach. I like it but I don’t love it because my mum is over protective. She plasters heaps of sunscreen and arm floaties on me. It feels like I am an overloaded safety kit that smells, but she is my mum so I love her.
I went for a walk down to the park where I sit on this old, creaky bench. I look up at the blossomed trees. The smell of the flowers overwhelms me. I walked back home to my loving family but the door was left wide open.
I walked slowly to the entrance just in case there was someone in there. As I placed my left foot into the house everything was placed normally and nothing was different except the door being open. I walk up the wooden stairs gripping tightly to the rail.
I place my foot on the soft fluffy carpet. I tip toe to my parent’s bedroom first. As I slowly push the white wooden door. I look in horror and could not believe what I was seeing.
It was my mother she was lying in her bed. She looked pale, tired, droopy and frail. I walked over to my father. I asked “Dad what is wrong with mum”. There was a pause. “Well, darling mum is diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease”. He explained. “What is Parkinson’s disease dad?” I asked.
“Well, darling it is when your body slowly slows down”. He replied.
“Why, what will happen”. I questioned.
“I don’t know we will just have to wait and see”. He stated.
I turned around towards my mum. Emotions run through me. It felt different like when you try a different food. I walk over to her and sit next to her. She squeezes my hand tight and says “It will be alright my little cuddly bear”.
Months pass by and every month it gets worse. The first month she couldn’t speak and still I tried to communicate with her. I had never found it this hard to talk to my mother before and I usually have heaps to tell her but since I heard the news I am speechless. The only thing she says to me is “It will be alright my little cuddly bear”.
In the second month she couldn’t feel anything in her fingers. She couldn’t feel the warmth of my skin. Every month that we are getting more and more separated from her. In the third month was when she was in a wheelchair. You could see by her face she was ready to let go but she didn’t want dad and I to be shattered into a million pieces.
The last and final month I didn’t want to leave her side. I looked at her face and I thought that I would tell her that it is alright and leave the pain behind. I go over and sit by her side. “Mum if the pain is too much it is ok, Dad and I will be alright. I just want you to be happy”. I whispered. I take her hand as she slowly smiles at me one last time before she shut her eyes.