It seems so wrong that her purse is on it’s own. It has never been more than about twenty feet from her for as long as I can remember. When she died today at 2:22pm (twenty-two has always been her special number) I clutched it close but it gave no comfort.
In a flash, she was gone. I can’t face going home without her now, so I’ve camped out at a hotel till I can retrieve her ashes and bring her back home. She would have loved this place and I’m just beginning to comprehend that the rest of my life will be filled with things I wish I could show her and tell her about.
For now, after ten long days and nights sleeping in her hospital room, I’m slipping under clean white sheets and dreading waking up in the morning to a world without her in it.
Goodbye Mom. But like that purse, you will never be far from me.