...It was so quiet...


Something to be expected, she supposed, considering where she was.


But...she looked at Her face...so peaceful, the ghost of a smile (the last smile she ever saw on Her) and couldn't help but feel that all this...overwhelming silence was wrong for Her.


She was never silent.


Nothing about Her was silent. Ever.


(Sitting next to daddy arguing, as they did, about something completely inane. Voices were raised but it was still friendly; just a big, barrel-chested man having a mock screaming match with his tiny-by-comparison-and-even-in-general 15 year old daughter about something useless.


Stubbornness and pride were two of the few things they had common. Their arguing was the only form their love for each other could take. Neither would ever admit it out loud.


But even that stubborn, proud, love took a backseat to Her. Thin and barely taller than Her daughter, Her bare feet hitting the wooden floor still managed to produce a THUNK THUNK THUNK sound that made one think of work boots. She came in swinging Her head to and fro, Her lovely black hair, tied into a pony tail, barely keeping up, singing some catchy tune She most likely heard on the radio. She was pretty in a way that belied Her actual singing talent which closely resembled the yowling of a cat that had just got it's paw jammed into a door.


Neither husband or daughter was shy about telling Her so, their useless arguing being “tucked away” for later. She simply rolled Her eyes at their “displeasure” before smirking and beginning to dance, the THUNK THUNK THUNK of Her feet beating a haphazard rhythm on the floor. The booing, hissing, and mild “insults” only increased in volume until the uproarious cacophony that was Her and Her family could only laugh and laugh and laugh...


Hers was the loudest, as always, cutting through husband and daughters voices like a knife through water, frustratingly annoying and yet still soothing to hear.)


She was...in a car. In the passengers seat.


When had that happened?


She remembered...standing...in front of a box. Her box. Looking down on Her face. There had been many other faces in the cemet-...in that place but, of them, she could only recall shadows and blurs and sometimes twin streaks of light running down what may have been their cheeks. Her face stood out amongst the confusion, smiling and tranquil. She had tried to memorize it. Memorize the lines on Her face both happy and sad, Her lovely black hair let down and allowed to flow like it was meant (But it didn't), Her light blue eyes that she couldn't really see (Because they were closed and they wouldn't open again).


She wanted Her face engraved, etched, seared into her memory.


When She was...stowed into Her box and lowered into the Earth she could still see Her face. A mirrored image taped (Stapled, glued, carved) on the insides of her eyelids. She would remain there for a long time yet.


The Daughter would always remember her Mother.


There was a bump and the car came to a stop (it had been moving?). A second (or hour...) later her door opened and she was gently helped out and up.


A burly, barrel-chested man was towering over her, holding her as if afraid to let go (Daddy...daddy was so strong, always angry or happy or irritated...but...he had been there, had seen Her, so calm and peaceful. The Daughter had never seen her Father cry before today).


She was led towards a house, a two story house painted soft and soothing colors that she knew was hers. But stepping inside and not hearing anything, not Her THUNK THUNK THUNKING or Her off key singing or Her cooking or Her dancing or Her laughing or something (Anything! Please...) she knew this place was no longer home.


Her daddy knew she knew it too. He caught her as her legs gave out and allowed his nice jacket and shirt to be soiled as she cried into his huge chest. They stayed like that for a very long time.


The Daughter would always remember her Mother and as long as there was silence...would never be able to forget her.