It ‘s exactly 2 weeks and 1 day since my life changed forever. My mother’s mortal remains are still in the hospital morgue, but since I’m not Jeffery Dahmer, I don’t know how much refrigeration halts decomposition. I would like to see my mother again, but even if I could, it’s doubtful I would. I remember my mother’s body moments after she passed, respirator removed, mouth contorted to stay open and smiling from that device. It’s over now.

Maybe someone is seeing for the first time through my mother’s eyes. Maybe she or he retains my mother’s essence, her goodness and knowledge absorbed in subtle ways into this person’s psyche. Maybe this justifies my mother’s quick death at only 68. 

I think my mother is with me. I hope she sees and hears, whispering to me what to do.