- 13.
The weather was perfect the day I was
buried. The sun was shining, the sky was
clear.
My black and white photo was on the
tombstone, I was smiling, like I had been a
spoiled, happy girl.
Dad and my brother had their heads down,
wiping tears. Polly was wailing dramatically, calling me “big sister” over and over again.
Our friends and relatives were telling them
not to be so upset, and were commenting on
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I just stood there, watching, feeling like this
was all some kind of messed up joke.
The wailing was endless, but Mom just looked
numb.
After the funeral, Dad was complaining to her.
“So many people were there, you could have
at least pretended to cry, or people are gonna
talk.”
Mom didn’t say anything, just staring into
space, the sun highlighting her grey hairs.
A few days later, she took my death
certificate to the DMV to cancel my license.
The clerk picked up the stamp, ready to go. But Mom spoke up suddenly.
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The clerk looked at her, curious. “What’s
wrong? Is there a problem?”
Her lips were trembling, she wanted to say
something but couldn’t.
Finally, she just shook her head.
The red stamp went down.
Mom picked up the document, looking at the
two bright red words:
Cancelled!
She finally realized I was really gone.
That I no longer existed.
Her hands were shaking, she slumped to the
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“Jenny, my baby!”
“What do I do? You were so young…”
“I’m sorry, Mom is so sorry…”
33
She was calling my name, with tears all over
her face, consumed by her grief.
For some reason, my eyes were wet, too.
A month after my death.