Aftermath

It was my first fully realized funeral. It was the first time I ever touched a dead person…or kissed a dead person.

* * * * *

I didn’t cry at the funeral. Someone had to remain calm. I had my full attention on my mother. On Friday evening I was already home-I couldn’t stay there even a second longer than necessary. On Saturday morning I checked my mail, saw Milla’s comment and as I was trying to write my reply I burst into tears. I wept like a baby.

* * * * *

On Thursday morning I heard from my father. “Your mother called. Granny felt worse; they’re taking her to the hospital.” I spent the first half of the day expecting a second call and it came shortly after noon just as I was trying to read a NewYorker article titled “Good grief: is there a better way to be bereaved?”. I never finished it. I had to rush home, pack my bag and leave.

* * * * *

I’m taking my mom to see “Avatar”. She needs to be distracted from her sad thoughts. What’s more important-she needs to realize her life did not end with her mother’s death.

* * * * *

I wasn’t the best daughter. My parents were not the best parents. I and they made a lot of mistakes over the years but it’s irrelevant who started it first. What matters now is that we are both willing to make amends.

* * * * *

I might be still in shock. I might have not seen the end of it yet.