I can't help but think of that while he screeches his guts out right now.
The funeral was really nice yesturday. Really simple, but really beautiful. The first part was just for the immidiate family. We went into this little room that was pretty much empty aside from a few chairs and my mother lying in a white coffin. She was wearing her big framed glasses and this brown and maroon dress she used to wear all the time before her stroke. She didn't look like my mom, though. She resembled her. Her face looked like a wax figure. She didn't look real. I guess that is a good thing...it helped us realize that she's not really here anymore. I can't imagine what it would have been like if it did look like my mom. Just see her lying there, looking like she was sleeping, but knowing she wouldn't wake up. (That just reminded me of a story. I remember when I was little, and I would wake up before my mom and I would want to wake her up I would go in her room and jump on her and say "Momma..are you sleeping?" and she'd always say "No...I'm just resting my eyes.") I completly lost it. I just started bawling and crying out "I want my momma" and my sisters came and held me. The rest of the funeral ran smoothly and I was composed. Jamie, Emily, Kristen and Carla came. That meant so much to me. Jamie looked so cute. We went up to my mom and put her signiture scent, White Shoulders, on her. She smelled so much like my mother. I could just picture me laying my head on her chest and smelling that perfume, and her stroking my hair with her hand. It was that one hand...her left one...that always looked the same no matter what. Through her stroke, cancer, and death, it never changed. It had long slender fingers with delicate long nails and her wedding ring on it. It was always so soft. I remember the day she died looking at that hand and how it looked the same. It looked the same in her casket too.
I really miss my mom. I realize it more and more each day. I can't comprehend that she's not coming back. That those clothes in her dresser will never be seen on her again. That all those memories I have of her....that those things will never happen again. That she's not here to tell us what each piece of jewelry in her drawer meant. I can't believe it. I mean, I literally can't believe it. Sometimes I still try and look for her to ask her if my hair looks ok or if I should wear something else.
I miss her laugh.
I try and picture her face and I can so perfectly. Picture how it looked and how it felt. How the mole on her cheek faded just slightly and how her hair felt in my hand.
Alright....this isn't working...I need to write later...I just can't do this