Well it's over. Your body is dust and you no longer exist. I can't believe that was you in that box, cold and breathless. When I saw it, I pictured you lying inside. I pictured you with your eyes shut yet still absorbing the surroundings you grew up in and saw with living eyes.
It hurts so much to know that I’ll never look upon you again, that I’ll never hold your hand or laugh with you. Your body is dust and although you're in my mind, it feels now that you never walked this earth because I have no remains to visit it's hard to imagine your presence.
I’m replaying the memories I have of you in my head and as it said on the program, you were certainly “devoted”. Although you had a son, I was your daughter and even my mother knew that and told you so on the day I was born.
You’re death, to me, heralds the beginning of many deaths to come. When you died, one of my thoughts was who’s next? It sounds morbid but now it has begun, I’m waiting for the next set of phone calls detailing the passing of someone else I care about. And it’s hard. I’ve already lost one mother, how can I bear to lose my own?
All those things you wanted to see, university, marriage, a child. All the smaller things we said we’d do, shopping, a meal, sight seeing. All these unfulfilled. We are the queen’s of the false promise. And I’m not angry; I just find it hard to believe we ran out of time. But it’s ok, I’ll see you later.