Before, After & In-between

One- Now

I never thought this day would actually happen, 106 days of avoidance, 106 days of denial, 106 days of wishful thinking of prayers and promises. I wagered everything I thought I could give, everything I thought that mattered.

This entire time I've been waiting to wake up, waiting for a miracle but it never came. The inevitable came, and I'm not ready. I'm not prepared even though they told us how, they told us what to do, where to go, who to call...there is still a small part of me that believes none of this is real.

We've become those people. Our car the first in a line of many driving painfully slow down Mainstreet. Others pull over to let us pass, people busying themselves on the strip stop to watch. Our loss on display for only a fraction of their day until they can get on with their lives.

"Looks like rain," my dad says, squinting his eyes toward the fluffy clouds that loom over the boardwalk.

"Mmhmm." The small talk has become painful plus I haven't the energy to say anything more, nor do I care.

The pit of emptiness in my chest flutters faster as we pass the Bookkeepers' Inn and I stare at the closed sign in the window. Its Saturday morning and Bev is closed. She never closes even on Sundays. Yet I know why, it's because she's a few cars back in the procession.

I pull down my visor and flick open the mirror taking notice of Jake in the back seat, he's here but he's not. His eyes are vacant, like some tiny alien has inhabited his body and can't quite figure out how to replicate his quirky presence.

If I could think of something to say to him I would, something to bring him back but I'm numb, and I don't know how to be who I used to be... how to be who we used to be.

When we arrive everyone follows my family in one by one and the realness of her absence takes hold, the realness that we are here in the cemetery to say goodbye to her stalls me in my tracks. Everyone passes me while I hang back, their fleeting glances and sympathetic faces punch further into the hollowness of my stomach. The aching pit seems to sink deeper and deeper, and I am overcome with the need to be as far away from her grave site as possible. I don't think I can bring myself to see it...I don't want to see it; no, I physically cannot see it— cannot see the words written on her headstone that will never sum up who she was to any of us.

When the moment presents itself, I sneak away finding a deserted bench to gather my bearings, only for a minute because dammit I just need to breathe. It's tucked beneath the biggest weeping willow I've ever seen. The branches seem to bend around me in sorrow, a perfect place to hide, a perfect place to disappear... but I make the mistake of looking up just in time to see my dad's eyes bore into me. My brothers silent pleads for help, yet I am paralyzed with fear, and I wish... I wish...I wish I would just wake up, wake up wake up wake up Katy!

But no matter how many times I squeeze my eyes shut and pray for it to all disappear when I open them it's still here. Everything, everyone, her. No matter how far away I sit I can't escape it.

Their all watching me, watching me like someone would watch a toddler teetering around a pool, with anxious worry. Poor Katy, their faces all say. No one cares that my mom died, it's just something new to talk about ... I'm something new to talk about. I usually like to stay off the radar but now I'm like some flashing red siren nobody can look away from.

 Leah is heading towards me. She's been trying to make eye contact with me for a while, trying to gain permission to invade my protective bubble.

I nod signaling it's okay for her to enter, it's not like I own this bench, this spot. Anyone can sit here.