The time had come.

‘She’s not right’ she tells me.

 I ask for more details. 

‘I don’t know exactly, but, my girl has gone downhill.’

 

May twenty-first. 

Two weeks after nearly dying herself...

Her daughter died. 

 

I was away.

 

Her daughter died.

 

I was away.

 

I watched her talk to all those people. 

She told and re-told the story of the last few days, hundreds of times. 

She was strong.               

 

They all wanted to hear the story. 

They all wanted to see her. 

I wanted them all to go away and leave her. 

How many times should she have to tell the story?

 

She was still recovering from her heart attack.

I didn’t know how she would do it.

 

I had not been there.

 

So much company.

So much noise.

But nothing could drown out the silence in her home.

It was so quiet without her daughter.

 

We never had a minute alone.

I didn’t know what to do.

 

I was beyond sad.

I couldn’t fix this.

I had not been there.