It's hard now to think back and remember the good times. We were happy once, dad and myself. I was such a mummies boy growing up. My mom was the best, she knew me inside out, and she got me. She put so much energy into protecting me from the pain of the outside world. Whenever I was sick, she would drop everything and spend her waking hours to nurse me back to health. I loved making her proud. It was rare I did something to disappoint her, but when I did, it broke my heart to see the look in her face. I remember my dad telling me my mother was a rare kind of beauty. No matter room she was in she was always the best looking girl there.

She was the love of my dad's life. He worshipped the ground she walked on. He took pride in being a good, kind husband and father. Together they were great. I never saw them fighting, they kept everything to the bedroom. I'm sure there were hard times between them, but if there was, I would've never known. Whatever problems they faced, they faced them together, and as my father would say, "Everything will be better in the morning."

I remember when the atmosphere in the house changed. It was like a tornado. It was like a cloud of black had descended upon us. I think, at first my dad struggled to accept it. They kept it from me for a long time. That was the hardest for me. I knew something was up, but they hid it from me. My mother was great at it. No matter how scary things got, my mother would still have this smile on her face that told you everything was ok. My dad, on the other hand, was useless at hiding his emotions. My dad was laid back. He avoided confrontation at all cost, and never spoke up up anything.

My dad worked hard and was always busy, but he would always make time for me. At the time, I think he didn't want to lie to me or see the pain in his face. He shut me out for a while. I was so confused. I thought I had done something to anger him or hurt him in some way. Some nights he drank to try and cope, and I would come down for a drink to find him crying. Weirdly, I didn't mind, it was the only time he didn't shut me out, but like my father would say "it'll be better in the morning." For the time being anyway.

My father was strong, and he always pulled himself together. Whatever was bothering him at the time he had come to terms with it. For a moment he had become my dad again. It was around this time that the smile on my mother's face began fading. Her beautiful blonde hair was turning to straw and beginning to fall out. Her ivory skin was turning starting to turn orange and those cloaths she always looked good in were hanging from her bones.

I remember the day like it was yesterday. Everything felt different when I left for school that morning. That day in school was strange. All the teachers were acting funny around me. I could see the pity in their eyes when they looked at me. When they approached me, they talked to me in a weird tone, as if I was made of glass and their voice could shatter me into a million pieces. I sat in the classroom when the principles voice sounded out from the speaker. For some reason, I wasn't surprised when he called out my name. It was a surreal moment, I remember becoming overwhelmed with a feeling of Déjà vu like I'd experienced that moment before.

I remember walking out of the classroom and everyone looking at me as if I was on death row, and I was being led to the chamber. I get to the principles office and he invites me to sit down in his office. "Young man, please come in and take a seat." He struggled to keep eye contact with me as he talked. He kept on looking at the ground, and he was profusely sweating. "Your father is on the way to collect you. I'm afraid it's your mother. She has taken ill, and they had to rush her to the hospital. I could barely get the words out of my mouth. I didn't know whether to cry or scream. I begged the principal to tell me if my mother was ok. "Life doesn't always go the way we expect. Sometimes life forces us to become a man." I will never forget those words.

The principle was standing next to me when my dad pulled up in the car. I didn't want to go. I knew that if I went, nothing was ever going to be the same again. My dad was silent on the whole trip to the hospital. I was afraid to ask him if mom was alright. We get to the hospital, and before we get out of the car he tells me I need to be strong for mom's sake. I knew in my heart where all this was heading, but I wasn't ready to accept it or believe it.

The smell of the hospital will be something that will stay with me. The pungent smell of disinfectant they used to mask the smell of sick and death lingered in the air stinging my nose. I knew from the sense of despair and death that I got from walking down the corridors, that this wasn't a place where you came to get better, but a place where you went to die.

The whole family sat stationed outside her room. People tapping me on the back was starting to become a running theme. What do you say to a child who's mother is dying. I walked into the room, and my mother was sitting up in the bed. She seemed to be glowing, and she had that beautiful smile on her face. The same smile that tells me everything is ok, and for a brief moment, I thought everything was going to be alright.

She makes me sit on the bed before wrapping her arms around me. I hugged her so tight. I wasn't letting anything take her from me. She tells me she loves me. She tells me I need to be strong because angels were coming to take her to heaven. I begged her not to leave me. I needed her. We all needed her. I held her so tight that my dad had to drag me from her bedside.

My mother got upset at seeing me distressed. I saw the pain shoot through her body before the machines she was hooked up to, started beeping. Doctors came rushing into the room, and I was quickly ushered out. And that was the last time I saw her alive.