I found my mother dead today. I still can't believe it. I don't want to believe it.
Jean, my mother, was lying so still with her eyes staring at nothing. It was awful.
A toothbrush lay beside her. I stared hard at her outstretched fingers, wanting them to curl around the handle, to show some small sign of life.
Finally, I stared at the marble vanity cluttered with the mundane necessities of the living—a half-drunk glass of water, an open bottle of mouthwash, toothpaste, an open bottle of pills, perfume, lipstick and a compact.
I must have fainted because the next thing I remember was Brian, Dorian and Estella standing round me with worried looks on their faces.
I had hoped to spend time getting to know my mother, but she's been taken from me. And it's tearing me apart.
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