I miss my mom

I miss my mom. I don’t remember much about her, It’s been over a decade and a half since I last saw her, Before she faded into The person she’s become now. But I remember when she was kind, I remember when she loved us, I miss my mom. I miss swingset rides, Her pushing me, Higher and higher, Into the sky. Snapshots, memories, A blink of her smile, I miss swingset rides, I miss when she loved me back. I miss my mom. I lost a parent, Without losing a parent, She’s alive, She’s well, But she is not My mom Anymore. I watch as she mumbles to herself, Lost, Alone and angry, Rageful. She wasn’t always like this. But I no longer remember her before. I miss my mom. I miss warmth, Compassion. Traits she once possessed According to her family and friends, But that now remain dormant, In a volcano, Ready to explode At any given moment. I miss feeling like a kid, Not walking on eggshells. Security, Safety, Not standing outside home and Hesitating to open the door, Scared of the jungle I’d step into. I miss my mom. I wanted her back, For so long, I waited, And waited, And waited, For her sickness to dissolve, And it did, But not before taking her with it, Pixelating her into hatred And dissipating her spirit Into bitterness. I miss my mom, But I do not want her back. I do not want to forgive her, And act like it’s all fine, that all is well again, That cycle has broken me down to bits, And I refuse to be a part of it again. So Mom, I love you, But I accept now, That we can never be together, Not the way a family is, not ever. Because your sickness consumes you, And though that’s not your fault, You said your love was unconditional, Yet it still came to a halt. I don’t want that for my kids, Mom. I love you, and I miss you, but you will never meet my children. Because though you are my mother, you’re not the mom I miss.