Take My Hand

Prologue

Julian

Present Day

I’ve always been the type of person to put others before myself.

The type of person who apologises when someone bumps into me at the supermarket, the same type of person who holds the door open for an endless stream of people, even when I’m already late.

When the cashier gives me the wrong change, I simply pretend I counted wrong, and by the time I leave the store, I've convinced myself of it too.

And I do it all with a smile on my face.

The funny thing is, I don’t internally chastise the people who take my kindness; I chastise myself for being selfless and ultimately, for being too nice.

My Mother admired my softness; she would often tell me she felt like she raised a ‘gentleman.’ I let her, simply because I never wanted to disappoint her; I hate confrontation of any kind.

What she saw as one of my best qualities, I recognise now, as one of my biggest downfalls.

It’s not that I don’t like myself, quite the opposite, actually.

I love the person I am because she raised me.

My Mom shaped me into the man I am today with nothing but love and kindness.

She lived by the mantra - ‘treat others how you wish to be treated in return.’

I’ve clung to that notion all of my life, believing that my efforts will be compensated.

I’ve let her words carry me through the last week.

I’ve swallowed my pain and anger, smothered them with kindness and grace.

I’ve shared my smiles and affection with those overcome with sadness at her passing.

They allowed me to give to them what they couldn’t attain for themselves; hope.

They looked at me–the grieving son–still smiling, still holding it together, still whole.

Again, I don’t blame them. How could I? They only took what I was willing to give– always so willing.

I sit alone in the bathroom, looking at the shampoo bottles I’m yet to get rid of.

I imagine Mom’s gentle smile and warm eyes, the way her face would beam with pride whenever she caught sight of me.

Her whole frame would relax when I entered the room, as if the effort of holding all of her love for me was finally eased, once I was there to receive it.

It’s a feeling I’m more than familiar with; only, the love I’m holding on to has nowhere to go. I tried to cash in on my kindness and claim my karma, only for it to ricochet back ten times harder.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I thought I could save him.”