On becoming a motherless daughter

It is always worse at night. The house is quiet, Lainey is sleeping and my mind explodes. It’s been 44 days now that I have been motherless and it feels like only 44 minutes. It feels like my sister-in-law just woke us up by pounding on the door that night. Adam was at the front door before I was and I heard her say it. ‘Cheryl is dead’. I fell to my knees right there in the kitchen. Nothing has been the same since. The reality is that she had been long gone by then. We had been without our Mama for 13 hours already and didn’t.even.know.it. How can that be? How can you not know the instant that part of you is gone? They said it was instant. Painless. I am thankful for this but horrified that she was alone. My Mother died alone. She died over my lunch hour. I ate lunch like nothing was happening, when the reality was completely opposite of that. How can that be? Adam, Lainey and I went out to dinner that night at a mexican restaurant that Lainey and I ate at with Grandma just the week before. I wish I was with her instead. I wish my brother wasn’t the one to find her. We turn the ringer on our cell phones down at night. We didn’t hear his call. We weren’t there for him. We didn’t answer. The weeping was instant and hasn’t stopped since. The next day my eyes burned from having cried for so long. The skin on my forehead was tender and felt bruised-perhaps because my face was in a different position for so many hours while crying.

This is all I can write now. When we lost our babies, I wrote because it helped me to feel better. I’m hoping this will do the same. I have so much sadness trapped inside that if perhaps I get it out somehow, the weeping will stop.