The rain was a relentless curtain, blurring the world outside my window. It mirrored the storm inside me, a tempest of grief that threatened to drown me. Mom was gone. The words, though simple, felt like jagged stones lodged in my throat. Gone. How could she be gone?
Just yesterday, she was… well, not yesterday exactly. Yesterday was a blur of hushed whispers, beeping machines, and the sterile scent of antiseptic. The day before, perhaps? Or was it the day before that? Time had become a slippery eel, wriggling out of my grasp.
I remembered the last time I saw her smile. A real smile, not the strained, brave ones she’d offered in the final weeks. It was weeks ago, maybe months. She was sitting in her favorite armchair, bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, reading a book. Her brow was furrowed in...