It's that day the most awkward day of all.
People running, hugging, crying and flying by I feel like I'm at a mall.
I still remember the sorrowful silence and the awkward movements of the people taking her.
I scream in my head "Get me out of here!"
I am so angry. She's gone... gone forever.
No on makes me feel better.
I don't want to talk about why my eyes aren't wetter.
Who are you to tell me that it is all good, that she is with God now?
It's the day after her funeral and I remain calm.
No crying yet- I must stay strong_ I can't break.
I attempt to sleep but I can't. It continues to replay in my head.
My tears sting my face.
I exclaim "Why Lord... Why?" into empty space.
I finally eat and actual meal not a pre-baked meatloaf.
I sit across from her seat which taunts me in boastful ways.
The nights are silent; no one to talk to; no one to comfort me,
just the silence that teases and mocks.
The next day I don't want to get up.
I just lay there hoping, wishing, wanting, to know when the depression will end.
When will these days come to a halt?
I may never know.