Day 13

Mom, you’ve been dead thirteen days. You were found on the seventh day of November, five days after you’d gone away. A Michigan State Police Officer phoned me that afternoon, but I didn’t answer the call because I didn’t recognize the number; I didn’t even think to listen to the message he’d left. On the eighth day, Thursday, the police knocked on Tara’s door. Little Sister had to tell Big Sister.

I’d last seen you on October 25—the day Morgan was born. You’d gone to visit Tara and your new granddaughter on Sunday, October 29—that’s the last time Tara had seen you. It is now the sixteenth day of November, and I’m angry that time passes so quickly.

I woke up hungry this morning. I am rarely hungry anymore. Jim bought eggs recently, so I cooked two pancakes the size of my face, two scrambled eggs with sharp cheddar, and a half pound of bacon. I didn’t eat quickly, but purposefully. I felt as if finishing my absurdly large plate would clear me, somehow.

It didn’t.

 

48 thoughts on “Day 13

  1. Oh love. We have so many good parallels in our lives, but I hate that we’ll forever feel pain on these dates, even if it’s together. I’m heartsore for you – for all of you, I was from the moment I heard from you. That I can only reach out with words…it just doesn’t seem enough. I adore you. 💙

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  2. you might be the only other person besides myself that measures things by the size of their face…im stunned and more in love with knowing you than ever…you once again turn to your beloved page and prove to me each time i return here that its a place i always want to be…you have my heart sweet friend and i will be sure to send you as much of my positive energy as possible! XO! ❤ Austins forever! ❤

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