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Monologue - My mother was dying (This is just a performance it's not true)

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´╗┐My Mother was dying and I went shopping. What was I thinking? She had given me money and I went out; went shopping to but myself a new pair of shoes and meet Jessie, and she was lying in bed. She could hardly move. When I finally got home, Mum was so weak, she could barely stand up. She?d been gagging and heaving and I hadn?t been there. Dad took her to that nightmare doctor, Dr. Luskin and Mum was placed into the hospital. I cried because I was so relieved that she was going to the hospital. I couldn?t stand to listen to her sick noises; to her suffering. She never came home. Dad never said anything to me. But I know that he thought I should have stayed at home with her. ...read more.


Three years? three years of her being sick. Until the doctors figured out what the trouble was. The last time I saw her at the hospital, she said that I should go play netball. Go play netball? That?s what I did with her; the hoop in front of the house. I miss playing with her. Even when she was sick, she would come out and watch me. She?d sit in her wheelchair and pass the ball to me. Now I don?t want to be on the team anymore. Every time I play I wish she was there to watch me. Coach says I?m not working hard enough. She doesn?t understand that every time I run up the court, I hear my mothers voice, like a bell, only I can?t her what she?s saying. ...read more.


Death had taken her over. And I should have done a better job. I should have cared more; I should have been there for her. And now I have no more chances. I wonder what she?s saying to me. Is she angry with me? Is she happy? All of my friends have to have mothers who are alive and breathing. And my mother had to die. I can't go to their houses because I can't stand to see their mothers, or even their mother's things scattered around the house-make-up, a dress, a coffee cup. I want to take the coffee cup and smash it against the wall because my mother will never drink coffee again. I feel angry at her and then I feel guilty for being angry. I wish I could believe that I would see her one day. But that's total nonsense. She?s gone. And I'll never see her. There'll never be anybody who loved me the way she loved me. Never. ...read more.

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