I remember walking into the bedroom and seeing my mother lying with a facecloth over her eyes. The curtains were drawn, and the room smelt musty. My mother was obsessed with cleanliness, she made us scrub clean surfaces, and we changed linen every other day – we were poor, but you could, if you had some strange desire, eat off our floors. So, what shocked me, what made me take a step backwards was a saucer with stumped out cigarettes, and the smell of an unwashed body. I was hesitant, unsure whether I should reach out for her, and after a while, I turned and headed for the kitchen. I remember that day vividly, it was the day that my life changed, and my mother never came back.

I remember always whispering in my house, we could never raise our voices as my mother was resting, or feeling quite ‘poorly’. I wondered, that if she was sick, then why did she not open the windows, get some air in – surely, I asked my father one night, a stuffed room, a room that smelt so rank, could not be good for her. My dad leant over and hit me across the face, he said nothing but sat back and sipped on his whisky and that was the last time I voiced my opinions at home. I seldom saw my mother, and my father spend most evenings on the chair, sipping steadily on a glass of whisky. It was prudent to avoid him. I had two older brothers, and we would sit outside most evenings, we did not speak much, but together we would sit and will away the hours until it was reasonable to find sleep. I know that my parents did love us, but something snapped and when we lost my mother to her ‘illness’ my dad followed. He became almost mute, sipping his drink and watching TV. Sometimes he would notice that we were around, and smile insipidly, but mostly not, he was as good as dead!

My oldest brother, Seamus, became the token parent. He would cook for us, mainly curry, made sure that we were equipped for school, as well as check up on my mother and offer her some comfort. I could not speak to my mother, she scared me - this woman that emerged out of nowhere was not a mother to me. Seamus would spend hours trying to coerce me to go and kiss her on the cheek, or say a tender word, but it was like a phobia, and I was obstinate. I have memories of him, Seamus, in the kitchen, stooped over a chopping board, peeling potatoes for the curry. It's vivid, it's like yesterday.

Somehow life continued. I spent hours bunking school and smoking cigarettes behind book counters at CNA. I never got caught, or perhaps people just noticed and felt sorry for me, or were apathetic to it all, but the only education I ever obtained was from the street. I would spend the day smoking the cigarettes I stole from my father, and reading Sweet Dreams books or Archie comics. In the end, the shop owner became something of a friend. He never seemed to grasp the idea that I was kid and should not be smoking or out of school. I wonder that perhaps I had lost the ability to be a kid that my home life meant I had aged prematurely.

That was my childhood; there are not many memories of it. Just me smoking outside, or with my brothers comfortable in our silence, or sights of my mother, lying still and my father sitting and drinking. Still.

I left school early, it was no use to me and Seamus just nodded when I mentioned the idea to him. It was wasted money, and there was no argument to be had. Instead I got a job at a shoe store, and there, just like at school, I spent most days smoking in the store room. I was nineteen when Seamus died. He died of a heart defect. I can't remember my reaction, it must have been shock, I just remember his funeral and seeing his coffin being lowered into the ground. I remember thinking how crude it seemed, how disrespectful to his life. That's it, he is here and then we just forget about him, to rot beneath the earth. That's all I remember of his funeral, my thoughts.

I stayed at home for a couple of years after that. But slowly, I too was losing my mind. Eventually for the sake of my sanity I left, I did kiss my mother and said a farewell, but I don't think she noticed. I was surprised when I kissed her at how soft her skin was. I left my lips on her cheeks for a while, and smelt the smoke. 'Goodbye mommy' I said, and then hesitating, I mumbled ‘Love you’ all I could hear was a silent rasp. My dad nodded his head. I stood there with my bags and he just sipped at his drink, nodding his head. I turned and left. I called her mommy, I thought as unwanted tears emerged.