Mommy hasn’t been the same since Sammy died.
She was sad when daddy died, but she still tucked us in at night and told us bedtime stories.
She still made dinner for us every night when we came home from school. She still made turkey for Thanksgiving and decorated for Christmas.
But ever since Sammy died last spring, Mommy hasn’t been the same. I miss the old Mommy.
Mommy doesn’t tuck me in anymore. She eats ramen noodles and frozen pizza for dinner. Mommy doesn’t notice when I hug her and barely looks at me when she is eating.
She microwaved a frozen turkey TV dinner for Thanksgiving.
Mommy skipped Christmas altogether. Every year since daddy died, Mommy put three stockings up at the fireplace, one for Mommy, one for Sammy, and one for me. But this past Christmas, she didn’t hang any stockings up.
Mommy didn’t grieve the day of daddy’s death this year. I think she might’ve forgotten.
Or maybe Mommy's mad at me. Maybe Mommy blames me.
I was the one who was supposed to look both ways. I was the one holding little Sammy’s hand when we crossed the street to get on the school bus.
But that day, I was too excited about our Easter party at school, and I couldn’t wait to get on the school bus to show everyone my Easter basket.
Mommy should be mad at me. It was my fault.
Martha and Candice got out of the car at the cemetery parking lot. Martha shifted the red poppy flowers and stuffed teddy bear in her arms as she grabbed her purse. Today is the one-year anniversary of that day.
They walked towards the south end of the cemetery slowly, oblivious to the drizzling rain.
The clicking of Martha's shoes on the pavement stopped abruptly as they reached their destination. They stepped into the field of grass towards the tombstones. Slowly, they walked down the rows until they saw the one they were looking for.
Lovingly, Martha arranged the flowers and teddy bear in front of the headstone. She ran her fingers lightly over the letters in the greenish-gray stone as she read the hand-carved epitaph over and over.
Sleep undisturbed
My little Sammy Dec 6, 2015 - Apr 14, 2020
and
My lovely Candice Feb 23, 2011- Apr 14, 2020
“Sammy and Candice, Mommy loves you,” Martha whispered, her tears blending with the drizzling rain, “and I’m so sorry I couldn’t take you guys to school that day.”
Confused, Candice stepped forward to comfort her mother.
Only then, as her hand passed through her mother’s shoulder, did she notice for the first time the words on the right side of the headstone.
I felt the world spinning around me. Why is my name on the tombstone? I tried to grab onto Mommy but my hands passed through her.
“Mommy, can you hear me?” I cried.
Mommy didn’t move. Her eyes were fixed on the tombstone. A sad smile on her lips.
“I hope all of you are in heaven”, she whispered.
I looked up at the sky, it had turned from a gloomy grey to a light blue. “Are Sammy and Daddy in heaven?” I thought, “I miss them so much.”
Mommy slowly walked back to the car, her back straight and her tears dried.
I ran to catch up, “Mommy wait for me!” I cried.
Someone called out my name, it sounded like little Sammy’s voice, “Candice, come on!”
I looked up at the sky, the sun was shining into my eyes but I could see something through the clouds. It beckoned me to come closer.
“But I have to stay with Mommy,” I thought, “she needs me.”
I felt my body getting lifted into the air, a warm light engulfed me. “Mommy!” I screamed, “Mommy please stay with me.” I begged.
Mommy had stopped walking, she turned around and looked directly into my eyes, she smiled, a smile I hadn’t seen since Daddy died.
“Goodbye Candice,” she said, as a single tear rolled down her cheek.