24 years without you.
24 years ago,
my life stopped dead in its tracks.
I woke to a heavy cloud over me.
One that has followed me ever since.
I was sitting on the couch,
as my dad told me between sobs,
that my mother would never wake up again.
My 9-year-old brain couldn’t fathom the weight of his words.
Half of my world was gone.
Half of my world would go undiscovered.
Half of my world was dead.
The thought of her in heaven started as a nightmare,
I would have visions, of her body being buried inside my mattress.
I slept in the living room for a while.
It was harder to see a corpse in a couch cushion.
For a long time, I drew pictures of my mom laying in a casket.
Flowers surrounding her,
But no one standing at her feet.
Just a casket holding the person,
I would spend the rest of my life wishing I knew.
At the end of my journal entries,
I would ask God to tell my mother Hi,
And tell her that I miss her more than I can understand.
24 years later,
I no longer dream of her corpse in a casket.
Her absence in my life has become subconscious,
a thought that’s digested every day,
as if it’s easier to stomach now,
that I will never see her again.
The memory of her fades more and more each day,
but the dark cloud remains,
darkening the brightest days,
by reminding me,
half of my world is gone.
Half of my world has gone undiscovered.
Half of my world is dead.
