Complicated

There was a heavy knock at the door, and I turned my gaze towards the figure in the bed.

It was one of those nights where the sky were pitch black, not a single star was visible, and you couldn't get a glance of the moon. The snow lay gray and dull outside the window. It seemed like the world was coming to an end, even though I knew it would keep on spinning even after this night.

You looked terrified, staring at the door, waving to me to come to your side.
I walked over, slowly, sat down on the edge, just as slow.
Your cold hand tried to find mine, get some warmth, and I met up with it, tried to make it easier for you.
"It's complicated, what we had, what I did..." That was all you said, in a weak, coarse voice. The voice of an old, dying lady. You were my mother. A mother that hadn't done as you should have, left me as a child, abandoned me to a man you clamied to be my father. A lie was what it was. Nothing more than a filthy lie so you could run off and take no responsibility. That man had been the best father I could ever wish for, but you still lied...

"No, it's not complicated, mother. You're lying on your death bed, I shouldn't even be here, if I didn't hope for you to tell the truth. Death is coming for you, and there is nothing you can do to stop him. You know that, you foolish, old hag." No nice words, no softness in my voice. I didn't like you, never had. Probably never would. And I wasn't ready to pretend, just because you were soon dead.
You looked at me, with those cold eyes. Eyes that didn't want to belive what your own daughter told you. What I said to you.

Another knock on the door.

"He will soon enter, and you know that. So tell me.. Why? Why did you do it?"
Your eyes watering up, and you gasped for air. Looked away, still to tough to let anyone else see  you crying. In a stuttering voice you spoke.
"I knew he could take better care of you then I would ever be able to. I was scared, terrified of what I might do to you if I kept you. I was drunk when you were made, I was drunk most of the time when you were small... You would have hated me anyway, and this was was better, less suffering." There were pain in your voice, so much sadness that my eyes begin to water as well. I didn't know why. Didn't know if I even belived you. Maybe you understood that. Maybe not, and either way wouldn't matter, because it knocked yet again on the door. Even heavier this time. He was impatient.

"Say your prayers, make god forgive you for what you've done. Maybe he can..."
With these words, I got up, let go of your hand. It fell down on the bed. You had no strenght left in it.
I walked over to the door, looked back at you over my shoulder. Your eyes were closed, a single tear slowly rolled down your cheek.
"I forgive you, mum..." It was said, you smiled a little, and I opened the door. I could see you take your last breathe and almost how your spirit left your body. You were gone.