Candles burning, icing melting and songs sung in celebration for another year.

Is it really a celebration if the birthday girl wants to die?

"Don't forget to make a wish when you blow out your candles mum." I smile and hold out her cake.

"I wish I was dead."

Suddenly everyone stands still, like a wave sweeping from the oceans floor has hit our bodies at full force. We're stunned at what we've just heard and a silence crosses the room. So silent, you could hear the dropping of a pin against the timber floorboards in their living room.

"Well now that you have said it out loud, you won't be granted your wish mum. Remember, you're not suppose to say it out loud'" I laugh a little and scan the crowd of friends and relatives for supporting laughter.

Still, silence.

"Now you need to cut the cake mum. Just enough to not touch the bottom of the plate, otherwise you'll have to tell us who you love?"

"Definitely not your father. His an asshole."

Maybe this was a bad idea after all!

"Let's sing everybody. Mum loves to sing don't you mum?"

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear mother, happy birthday to you."

I sing alone.

This is how her birthday played out last year so I'd thought against throwing her a party this year.

Instead we went for coffee, just mum and me and she ordered her usual sticky date pudding with caramel sauce and a scoop of ice cream.

Dad didn't wish her a happy birthday or buy her a gift, and my sisters were to busy with their kids during the day, a school day, that they could only spare a half an hour at four pm to hand her a present, one they'd all pitched in to buy.

Another useless gift that will be boxed or donated when she passes.

What happened to all her friends?

One by one, she'd alienated them over the years with her wild fantasies and story telling that may or may not have happened in real life.

If they could see her now, they would be shocked.

Her hair is falling out and her skins covered in rashes, her refusal to properly wash herself or her clothing for the past three months.

My failed attempt to bath her and failing attempts to fatten her up by hiding vegetables in spaghetti bologna, can now be seen by all.

From a size ten to a size four, her clothes falling off her and she oozes a smell of what only can be described of, is death.

Today I sing her birthday song in sorrow.

Today I sing alone.

Today I too wish she can get her wish, the one she'd asked for last year and wasn't granted.

I'm not very religious. More spiritual than religious because if there is a god, I'd like to know his reasoning in making my mum suffer her daily torment.

Why won't they take her now?

From what's she's told me, her life hasn't been easy. He father was verbally abuse, her brother physically and both her mum and grandmother died from the same illnesses.

She'd marry my dad to escape. Escape from her family situation then he also became both verbally and physically abusive.

The physical abuse, up until recently had stopped, just after she stabbed him with a knife. One that was handy in the kitchen after another one of their arguments had erupted.

This was before I was born.

Unfortunately his verbally abuse has continued most of her life.

From an early age I learnt the ability to fight. I excelled in my high school debating team. I'd learnt to fight to the death, never holding back and never considering the opponents feelings.

Argued hard and fast to the death is the ways I was taught.

I should have study Law instead of Economics.

I'd be lethal in a court room, I'd always win.

This skill for some could be handy but not to me. Not today.

I'm known now as a calm person, the one that's invited in when a crisis ignites. I logically look at both sides of the argument and work out solutions that suit both parties or agree on an impasse and find another way round.

I don't bandaid or hide in a crisis. I head towards them in full force with confidence in my abilities to get things done.

If only the two qualities combined would make my life easier.

Mums surprising happy today. Must be the two coffees and sugars we had earlier today so we decided to have an early night.

Or so I thought!

"Turn off your music," mum screams at me.

"What? What time is it? What music mum? There is no music playing."

"Don't lie to me. I heard music and now it's off."

"Maybe it's the neighbours across the horse paddocks. They must be having a party."

It four am. Her usual time as I've now come to realise when she wakes in fright dreams or hallucinations.

There is no rhyme or reason to her behaviour, and there definitely is no consistency.

Her mind works in mysterious ways and triggers memory or creates fantasies when she sleeping.

I take mum back to bed and check on dad just in case.

Again, he's slept through the disturbance.

I envy his sleep. His ability to just shut off and sleep through the dramas.

I guess I'll sleep when I'm dead.

My mind starts to drifts off and I hmmm with the following thoughts......

Before I die, I was born
Before I was born I had a life
Before this life I was torn
Torn from existence and began to fight.

Days merge to nights
Weeks merge to years
Life conquers new heights
Heights creating new fears.

Before I die, I want a new life
Before I die, I will continue my fight
Before I die, I cherish new nights
Nights full of peace, happiness and life.

(Thank you for reading. Please vote and more to come soon).