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  • Writer's pictureIndia Wittmershaus


My mother died. 

It wasn’t a surprise really. 

I mean she was old and ill. 

Still, she was my mother and now she is dead. 

How do you live without a mother? 

Of course, I know you can.

A lot of people do.

People lose their mothers.

People don’t have mothers at all. 

It’s normal.

Totally normal.

Still, why?

Shouldn’t she be there for me forever.

Didn’t she promise me that?

Didn’t she say she would be there for me forever and longer?

So, why? 

It’s not right. 

I don’t like it. 

I don’t want it.

Really, I hate it. 

I am sad.


I don’t know. 

I feel empty.

Just hopeless. 

It’s just that it is not right, not okay.

It’s not okay.

I want to scream.

Loud, as loud as I can. 

I can’t. 

My throat is tight. 

It hurts.

So much.

What will come next?

Will there be a future without my mother?

How can there be a future without here?

It’s not fair. 

Not at all.

My mother died.

Written by India Wittmershaus.

Cover photo by Anton Luzhkovsky.


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