That Day

So many thoughts racing through my mind as the car rolled back into the driveway. Only gone an hour, and the phone call brought me home. She's gone. Legs shaking, no need to hurry to the door. Not knowing what was inside.

Entering the house, like so many times before, I was unable to see the faces of my family, blurred by fear. And if they were crying, and they were, my ears were deaf to the sound. As if drawn into a vacuum, floating to her bedside, I was there in an instant, staring in disbelief. What was this now, my mother?

It took two years to lose her. It took two more weeks to say goodbye. Now, in this instance all I wanted was more time. Heart beating hard and fast, so alone and panicked.

Gasping like a fish exposed to all things painful. Clutching at her porcelain feet while kneeling at her side, I howled my primal protest as if I would forever. A finality, a truth like no other crushed me, as I realized what was lost. And then I felt my soul crumble. The pain was worse than the shatter of my heart.

Never to feel her comfort again.