Everything changed when I got incarcerated - by R.R.

Chosen Topic:

If Only I Could Turn Back Time

Consolation Prize - A13

By R.R., ‘N’ level student-inmate from TM1

‘Family’ holds different meanings to every individual. For some, it’s a home, mom, dad and siblings. For others, it’s the streets with ‘brothers’ and delinquency. As for me, I was very much the latter.

I was very close to my mother when I was a young boy. We spent a lot of time together, travelling overseas or even just to the nearest market for groceries. Memories of our trips were immortalized into photo frames and affixed onto the walls of our living room. While these were great, my favorite would be one particular photo of us in Japan. Our cheeks blushed red from the cold and she had the widest smile, looking very happy and beautiful. However everything changed after my parents’ acrimonious divorce when I was ten-year-old.

My father had custody of me back then. Mom seemed to have vanished from my life as a consequence. Dad took the opportunity to feed me with egregious stories of mom like how she didn’t want me and hated me. I was too young to comprehend the situation and naively believed it.

Growing up with a broken family and rough upbringing has led me into the streets as I yearn for attention and love. When I couldn’t get these at home, I turned to others and eventually met up with gangs which provided me with everything that I longed for.

Mom eventually reappeared in my life when I was a teenager but it was too late. No matter how hard she tried to explain and win me back, I obstinately refuse to believe her. During my ‘glorious’ days in the streets, I had the support of my ‘brothers’ in everything that I do; fights, drugs, crimes, they would always stand by me. I felt powerful, strong and more importantly, I felt like I had family in them. I didn’t need mom.

Everything changed when I got incarcerated.

The ‘family’ I thought I had, had only opened up a path for me into prison. The ‘brothers’ that I thought was my family were not there for me. Not a single person come to visit or write letters to me. I was non-existent. I was forgotten. Forgotten by all except one. 

My mother was my underlying, staunchest pillar of support despite my refusal to accept her. She visited me frequently and wrote letters to me without fail. A few years into my incarceration, she was diagnosed with cancer. Despite her illness, she did not stop visiting nor writing letters to me. Her effort in trying to reconcile with me knew no bounds.

The following month, on a Saturday morning, I was told by my officer to prepare for external movement. Must be one of my medical appointments I thought. While being escorted to the van, my officer revealed to me I was going home to see mom. I was shocked and scared.

Mom was dying.

The moment I saw mom my eyes began to well up. She was skeletal thin with hardly any strength to lift her arms. I went by her side and tried to kiss her forehead despite the metal chains that restricted my movements. I held her hands like I did when I was a toddler. Gently yet never wanting to let go. I didn’t know if it would be my last time ever touching her. I didn’t want to believe so.

The next morning, I was told by my officer that my mother had passed away. My legs trembled, I could feel the world crashing and I dropped to my knees and cried. I’ve lost her. My one last pillar is gone.

Later on, when I reached the cemetery to pay my last respects, my sister told me what had transpired the night before. All these while mom had refused to let me know of her cancer diagnosis because she did not want me worrying. Even on her deathbed, she kept asking for me. She was holding on, fighting to live one breath at a time so that she could see me one last time. After I visited mom at home for the last time, at night, my sister asked her if she was happy to see me. Mom could only muster enough strength for a smile and replied she felt blissful before closing her eyes and taking her last breath.

With mom’s passing, family never felt the same again. I could only look forward as the pain of regret filled me. I could only look into old photos to remind myself of happier days with mom. While I longed for her smile, I could only look for it in that special photo frame that once decorated the walls of my childhood home. I miss you mom. I love you. Rest in peace.