Morning After

There was a sense of calm in our house, when my mom's sisters filed out this morning. It was strange doing things that I would've normally been told to do—boil water for coffee, cook dad's oatmeal, cook rice for lunch—without anyone telling me to.

I think I'll be okay. Eventually. My mom would want that.

But when I see messages of "I'm so sorry..." or "Our deepest sympathies..." I still can't help but cry. But please don't be sorry for me. My mom is up where she's supposed to be. It's her Beautiful Destination after all these years. I know she's watching over us and making sure that we'll be able to cope.

I miss her, there's no question about that. But I know that she's still with me somehow. I feel her when there's that quiet calm. When no one is talking and all I can hear is the hum of the wind. I know that's her telling me, "You'll be okay."

It's been a week. I'm trying my best to be strong. But like my best friend told me this morning, it's okay to sometimes be weak. It's okay to cry sometimes. It'll help me be okay.