The torn blanket

I can barely breathe. As I feel the whoosh whoosh of my seemingly scarce breaths, I want to tell you a story. My story. I was born with 8 siblings, and our mom was a single mom. She didn't ever tell us about our dad, and we never pestered her, as she was good enough for both. She would give us all we needed, keep us warm and happy. She was the main focus in our lives, we would do whatever she asked, and she rarely, if ever, was wrong. Though she wasn't a very emotional woman, I knew she loved me a little better than my siblings. Maybe because I was a little weak at times, got a cold and fever too often. I still remember how once when we were kids, and others were ridiculing me for feeling cold all the time, she had bought a new blanket, a unique one, made by an old woman who was the only obstetrician and also a magic-worker in my mom's village. She had silently walked in while we tossed and turned in our sleep, and covered me with it, and I don't think I ever felt more loved in my life, than at that moment, when she leaned to tuck in the blanket, and kissed me goodnight. Sometimes I wish, I never had woken up the next morning. I still have that blanket and still sleep with it. Every night.
I got married quite late. I have a doting husband, whose life revolves around the highs and lows of my moods, whose sole purpose is to brighten the dark and dingy parts of my life. He and I have a special relation with my mom, and even though she never could make her own love life work, she saw to it that each of her children got well settled with caring husbands and wives in their lives. And though my husband is loving, we were never well off. It was my mom who helped us care for our family and keep our home lit with warmth, light and happiness. We had many children, and ours was a happy and noisy household. Weird as it may sound, I somehow attribute the happy kids we had to that blanket. Most of my siblings chose not to go down the parenting way. And I wish sometimes that I had done that too.
Because as I grew older, I saw a marked change in the behaviour of my children. I saw them being more selfish and uncaring towards me than I had ever seen anyone be, and slowly they turned on each other too. They had meaningless fights and quarrels over wealth, property, and insignificant, petty things. It got me thinking. Observing. Grieving. Helpless. I didn't really know what to do any more. Slowly the same kids who once took my word as oath, just like I still do my mum's, had not only their own opinions (which I respect) but also a deadly, competitive and spontaneous, uncaring attitude. All they cared about was themselves, their goals, and their life. Harmonious sibling banter turned into ugly, violent, destructive fights. They slowly started pulling apart the house that we lived in, one stone, one brick, one wall at a time. Literally, and figuratively. They even disowned one of my brothers, no longer kept any relations with him, because he seemed to be too small, beneath their notice. In one fight, they also tore a big chunk out of my blanket, and they didn't even bother to apologize, knowing how special it was for me. I somehow knew, the day that blanket tore, that the end was coming. Fast, and definitely. For me. They didn't care for their mom any more, not even for my weakening health. The doctors said I would die by the end of 2012, and they even prepared themselves for that. I was all prepared to give up and let go. Look into my husband's shining eyes one last time. See him brighten the dark nightmare my life had become once again. To let my mom know I would never see the light of day again. But somehow, I pulled through. They all say its a blessing, but I wish I had gone. I don't want to see more of this. I am still on my deathbed, but just not dead yet. They say if I have less stress, worry and depression, I could actually make it. My mind is killing me from the inside. But I don't want to. I want to go. I want to leave before my kids kill me for my possessions, without knowing it is me they live on. It is me they inhabit. I want to end it before they do. I want to end it before you do.