The darkest of days with many left to come, was not the worst day of my life. I thought it would, but it didn’t. I funeral is a sad day, but in all the chaos I saw something else – beauty.

My mother was being honored in the most beautiful way I could think of and although I was facing the fact I was never going to see her body again, there was a strong feeling she was still watching. How I survived that day as a twelve-year-old?

I dressed up. I picked a beautiful black dress my mother bought me for Christmas. She loved that dress and I felt like a princess. Was it funeral attire? Probably not, but I was dressed in a way my mother loved to see me and I dressed up to feel close to her. It was a cold day in February and the coat I was wearing over the dress made no sense at all, but I felt good in it. It was comfortable and too much at the same time – but it was me. And it was her – that’s all that matters.


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