Life After You And Me

Unveiling the Shadows

The grey clouds hang heavy in the sky, mirroring the somberness that weighs heavily on my chest. I feel the weight of my sadness pressing down on me like an invisible burden.

A battle to maintain a facade of normalcy, but my daughter's innocent eyes compel me to hide my pain.

I stare out the window of the slow-moving vehicle, somehow hoping it'll go slower.  I'm in no rush to arrive at my destination.

As I continue immersing myself in the dreadful sorrow of the day's event, I feel a soft tug on my sleeve, prompting me to turn to my side.

Zoe looks up at me, her eyes brimming with curiosity.

"Mommy, where are we going?"
She asks, her voice filled with anticipation.

"We're going to visit someone special, sweetheart."
I reply, forcing a smile onto my face.

Her eyes light up with excitement as she eagerly clasps her hands together.

"Is it someone I know?"

I glance at her again, my heart aching at her innocence.

Zoe started talking too early for her age. That has mostly been a blessing, but sometimes, not too much.

"No, darling. It's someone very special to me that I want you to meet. We're going to visit your Aunt Mimi."

I reply before returning my eyes to the dull clouds.

As we drive through the winding roads, my mind drifts back to the memories that still haunt me like ghosts from a distant past.

Mimi, my dear sister, was taken from us unfairly and far too early. The pain of losing her is a constant ache, an emptiness that I learned to live with but never truly healed from.

On this day, I feel the sting of that loss more acutely than ever. On this day I'm reminded of her absence, and most importantly, her impact.

Even in death, she's a force that couldn't possibly be reckoned with.

The quiet driver finally parks the car near the entrance of the cemetery, allowing us a moment to exit the vehicle.

The sound of crunching gravel under our shoes breaks the silence that envelops us as we walk. The air is heavy, as if the very atmosphere holds the weight of countless emotions.

I hold my daughter's small hand in mine, the warmth of her touch bringing a flicker of solace.

Together, we walk along the winding paths, passing rows upon rows of gravestones, each bearing the story of a life lived and a love lost. My heart clenches as we near the familiar spot where Mimi rests.

Kneeling down, I trace the letters of her name on the cold stone. The neatness of it tells me someone has been making frequent visits. I'm surprised because nobody seemed to care much for her when she was alive, why would they care now that she's not?

"Hi, Mimi"
I whisper calmly.

"I've missed you so much."