Page 7 of Lost in Life

Leaving them to their quiet conversation, I make my way down the hallway toward the sound of banging pans. “Hey Mamma.” I greet, walking into the kitchen.

My mom looks up, a flustered mess of chaotic energy. Pausing my steps, I slowly take in the scene before me. Several pots and pans are strewn about, cutting boards full of partially prepped ingredients, trash carelessly chucked on the floor. “Um, are we feeding an army?” I chuckle, earning a sharp look. My mom has always used cooking as a form of therapy so I shouldn’t be surprised she’s funneling her stress into the meal.

“Get your ass in here to help or go away, young lady.” She snaps.

I flinch at the misgendering. Not having the energy to react, I shuffle further inside, washing my hands in the sink. “Just tell me what to do.”

Nearly an hour and a half later, we enter Mona’s bedroom. I walk toward West and hand him his bowl as my mom sets up the TV tray on Mona’s lap before setting down her food.

“Hmm, this smells delicious, Ella.” Mona smiles up at her, picking up her spoon and taking a small sip of the chunky potato soup. We all watch in silence, waiting to see how her body will handle the food after several days of nothing. Mona looks up, noticing our watchful gazes. “Well, are you all going to just watch me or are you going to eat?” She mutters, her cheeks blooming.

West is the first to dive in, trying to ease his mom’s discomfort. He only gets a couple bites in before setting his spoon back down. “Very good.” He agrees, patting his stomach and offering a small smile.

We continue to eat and talk, enjoying the lighter atmosphere at Mona’s sudden recovery. I’m trying desperately to enjoy the change but can’t shake the feeling that it’s too good to be true. If life has taught me anything, it’s that there’s always a price to be paid for every small miracle, and this one is pretty big. I’m terrified at the cost.

Pushing away the depressing thoughts, I try instead to focus on the joy on everyone’s faces as we laugh and reminisce. Plans for the holidays are made, ideas for future vacations thrown out. It’s just like any other family meal we have.

That is until after the chatter slows and Mona’s lids grow heavy.

“I’m feeling a bit tired.” She sighs, nestling into her pillows. “I think I’ll take a nap so I’m well rested for our movie marathon later.” She winks at West.

He smiles back at her, running the back of his hand across her forehead. “Of course, Mom. Rest up.” As soon as the words leave his lips, Mona smiles and closes her eyes.

“I love you, baby.”

That was the last thing she said before succumbing to her sleep.

West

“I love you, baby.”

The same line replays through my head over and over endlessly. Along with it the desperate thought of what else I could have done. What way I could have saved her.

“Mona was a beloved mother and friend. We are gathered here to celebrate her life as she has been welcomed home in the arms of the Lord.” I bristle at the pastor’s words.

He didn’t know my mother. None of these people did. Not really.

Looking around the room, I’m hit with another wave of anger, my one constant throughout this. My eyes land on Nova sitting beside me and I’m overwhelmed by guilt. They have been nothing but supportive, and all I’ve been is a total dick.

Nova looks up at me, reaching over to squeeze my knee, rolling their eyes toward the pastor still droning on about some bullshit none of us believe or find any comfort in. I want to smile, I want to offer some reaction, but I can’t. All I feel is the hollow empty spaces that my mother’s death has left. Shifting my gaze away, I catch Nova’s face fall and it cracks my broken heart further.

Why can’t I just reach out? Why am I like this?

Grief does crazy things to people, or at least that’s what I’ve been told.

Besides Nova and Ella, my mom was my only family. No aunts, uncles, or cousins. My grandparents died long before I was born and my father bailed early on. This is my first tango with a loss of this magnitude and to say I’m not handling it well is an understatement.

My eyes meet the pastor’s as he finishes his homily. “Would you like to say something, son?” He offers, gesturing toward the space beside him.

I numbly rise to my feet and walk toward the podium. My steps falter as each one brings me closer toward the open casket displaying my mother’s body. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I freeze, unable to move.

A small hand lands on my arm, making me jump. Nova steps in front of me, drawing my attention to them. “Are you okay?” They whisper, tightening their grip on me.

I’m still unable to move or speak for several heartbeats as I stare blankly at the one person I have left in the world.

As if I’m watching a movie, I see and hear myself rip my arm from their hold, snapping, “Leave me the fuck alone.” My heart shatters at the hurt I can see reflecting in Nova’s eyes, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

“This is bullshit. All of you,” I whip my head around, meeting every person’s shocked gaze. “You’re all a bunch of fucking hypocrites. Where were you, huh? Where were you when we needed help? Whensheneeded-” My voice cracks and with it comes a blinding hot rage. “You all can sit here and pretend you cared, but you don’t, not really. If you did you would have done something.”

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