I walk in to the crowded room wandering, helplessly, all I can smell is the mixture between these people wearing too much cologne or none at all. I feel the red freshly vacuumed carpet upon my feet as I walk closer toward the attraction that people are crowding around. This room is very dimly lit, though rather dark, it contrasts nicely with the black and red wallpaper. There’s very little décor in here. A couple pictures of a face that looks ever so familiar. As I look around the room I feel the tears rolling down my face as I can taste them, salty, moist, it’s the taste of pain and sorrow.
I see a man, late 50’s, grey hair, wrinkles very clear; he’s dressed in a neatly pressed black suit. I can see his effort of trying to sit people down. The shine from his crucifix blinded my eyes, as I was staring directly at it. All I could hear was the sobbing of so many people. The whispering. I walk around the room, unnoticed. A sudden feeling of regret hit me as I stare at the black roses that surround the room.
I sat at the front next to a woman, who is also dressed in black; I’d say she’s in her early to mid 30’s. She stood out to me. Her face I’ve seen before. Her face brought a feeling of relaxation. Calmness. The tears were rolling down her face, dripping off her chin. I could smell the roses from where I’m sitting. As the man in black reads this book. A final bedtime story. I stand and walk towards the over sized box in front of the room. The closer I walk the more I feel lifeless. All feeling being lost. The voices become distorted.
As I looked into the box my thoughts empty, except one. This face I see I knew more than anyone else. I feel the darkness rising. The light fading. As I look at the woman, whose heart has broken, overtaken by sorrow. I realize I never got to say goodbye. To Mother.
