There were so many things that he wanted to say. It was his mother that was currently bellow his feet.

There were so many things, but so little words. His throat hurt, his eyes burned.

His fingers ran down the edge of the cool tombstone.

Maria Reiner

Let your soul live forever

1960-2021

Beloved mother, wife

He almost laughed when he saw the words on the tombstones.

She was not a mother. She was not someone worthy of being praised as a mother.

She was a woman who gave birth to children.

“I hate you, you know that. I hate you,” he said, running his fingers through the words, feeling the texture.

He didn’t care that he was sitting in dirt. He didn’t care that it was raining.

Is it rude to hate the dead? Who knows. Who cares.

“You were never a mother. You were never there. You never changed Raina’s diapers. You never took her to schools,” his voice was soft. His fingers caressed the stone, almost as if it were her.

This woman, who tormented him, even when she wasn’t here. This woman who managed to make him cry even after she was dead.

“You never made her lunch. You never read Micah bed time stories. You never took him to the playground.” Tears ran down his face.

“It was me, you know. I had to go to parent teacher conferences. I had to pick them up from school. I was more their mother than you ever were.”

His voice was soft. It was about to break. Break.

“You never,” deep breaths, “you never told me you loved me. You never said that to Raina or Micah. You didn’t buy them birthday cake.”

The sky was crying with him. Maybe God took pity on his sorrows.

“And I hate that I cry for you. I hate that I miss you sometimes. I hate you so much.”

His voice broke. His tears were a flood. He was drowning.

The rain fell on his head, his tears on his cheeks.

“I hate you, Maria.” His voice wasn’t soft, it was loud. It was broken.

“And now… a-and now you’re dead. Because you were irresponsibly. I told you to stop drinking. I told you.”

But she never stopped.

The drugs gave her the high. The high she needed. They gave her the thrill. The drugs she dedicated her life to. Her death to.

Her family, that she abandoned.

“Now Micah is an orphan, Raina too. They’re orphans. You’re more absent than ever. And they need you. They don’t deserve this.”

I love you, he thought.

He could never say the words out loud. He could never. He could never admit that he loved her. He couldn’t give her the satisfaction of loving him, after all the torture. Even if she’s dead.

I love you, he thought again. “I hate you,” he said.

“I hope you get what you deserve,” he said, once his sobs quieted. “Up there, wherever you are. I hope you get what you deserve.”

I love you, he thought.