It was a peaceful death. She died painlessly, in her sleep, working from a home that she loved inhabited by her dear husband of twenty one years. She didn’t get to grow old and enjoy the fruits of retirement, or get to see me come home from college one last time to tell her how much I loved her and wanted to see her happy despite how much of my soul has been rotted away; but she was spared from the pains of growing old, the worsening health issues and the risk of dementia. I’m thankful that she died not having to experience that hell.

But now, me and my dad are on our own. Despite all the good memories and the amount of time I could waffle on about how it was the best way she could have gone, nothing’s changing the fact that she’s gone now. I’ll never get to hug her, kiss her goodnight again, or debate who loved each other more. She’s never going to get frustrated trying to call me down for tea. I’m gonna miss her corny jokes. A son is missing his shoulder to cry on. A husband is missing the light of his life. Two parents have watched their daughter ripped away from them, and a brother has watched his other half wrenched apart. She was, funnily enough, the person I went to in the middle of my throes of panic thinking about my own demise. She’d already come to terms with her own, and so had I. I knew it would happen one of these days.

I’ve been strong for my dad, lord knows mother’s death is hitting him harder than it is me, but it feels like the walls are closing in and I can’t breathe. It’s going to be a few days before my brother comes back home for a week, and even though my uncle is a phone call away, I feel so trapped. We’re alone in this fucking house. The air here is like the reaper’s stench.

I’ve done well writing so far but I just don’t have the energy anymore. I just don’t feel safe now that one of the four people I loved the most has just vanished from my life. I could go on and on and on but I’ll cut myself short. I’ll just say the handful of words that convey it all:

I want you back, mom. I love you.

&amp;#x200B;

&amp;#x200B;

Please, it's selfish of me to ask but offer me your strength tonight. I can't handle this on my own.