Everything yearned for a story and my life needed fiction. Reality can be too hard. It felt like there was a boulder on my chest. I couldn't breathe -couldn't move.
My aunt put a photo of my uncle Scott on top of her as the wind whipped right through me, but managed to tangle my curly hair. We all stood around her. Some in silence, while others chatted quietly.
I couldn't even get a glimpse of her pearly white hair or her beautiful smile. All that was there was an urn in the ground surrounded by flowers.
Amazing Grace started playing in the background and I finally saw her. Strong and smiling, with her dark pools of eyes looking at me as they always did. Comforting me. Loving me. Letting me know she was okay.
My high heels sank in to the soft ground below me. I looked around at the others. I saw faces wet with tears and faces bright with smiles. Were we grieving or were we celebrating? What was I supposed to feel? Not knowing what to do, I grabbed my mother and held her tight but wore no emotion on my face. I was blank and numb.
Right then, at that very moment, I looked up and saw my 14 month old nephew. As if inebriated, he stumbled toward me (as he had only been walking for a few weeks then.) As he got closer to me, he reached out his arms. How did HE know that is what I needed when I didn't even know? I picked him up, held him close, and with all his strength he hugged me right back.
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