April 21, 2011 - 1:09
the fact that they were both mothers is something that I'd never considered so solemnly before last night. They shared a bond that I'll never have, one that I can only imagine my sister mourns for daily. Perhaps I should be glad I never had it.
I didn't cry at all after we spoke, I just laid on my back. Observed what felt like a clamp in my chest cavity, processed the phantom pain, detached. Willed my room to be dark and it happened, noticed the weight of the cat on my low-gut, like a medicine ball. Then I spoke to her plainly, asked for her by name, like I used to. And then I felt only my lower lip go ice cold.
And I don't remember falling asleep after that.