This was written on September 15, 2018
Today it’s been two years since your funeral. It was a beautiful day. Even though the calendar said September 15th, it was warm and the sun was shining. The days since you died had been awful. The loss was unbearable, and I couldn’t believe I wasn’t going to see you again. My beloved mother, why did you have to leave me? Why now. The morning you passed, the family gathered in your hospital room. We talked, drank coffee and cried. We stayed there for hours, your girlfriend also dropped by. It was so unreal, when it was time to leave you. I was in a daze. How was this going to work out? I had been through a lot, but this eclipsed it all.
We arrived at the church early. One of my brothers and I had decided to see you one last time. The undertaker opened the coffin and there you were lieing. But you weren’t there, you were gone. We put roses and the ring my sister and I gave you for your birthday in the coffin with you. The coffin was closed and sealed. After a little while, people started arriving. They came towards me with open arms and sad, pitying looks on their faces. I couldn’t hold it together. The crying overtook my body. I went inside the church and sat down. There were so many flowers. 90% of them were shades of pink. They all knew you well. I could feel the church fill up behind me. There weren’t enough seats, so some people had to stand. I knew T was sitting a couple of rows behind me. I needed him by my side. There were a couple of empty seats in the very front on the other side of the coffin. The church servant made some people sit there. It was two of my dear friends. They had also been there, in the same church, at our wedding 3 months earlier. The thought filled me with warmth.
The organ started playing. The time had come. My mother’s funeral. I struggled to keep it together. My dad had chosen the most beautiful psalms, but I couldn’t sing along. The priest was talking, it was so surreal that it was you he was talking about. Suddenly a butterfly flew in the window. It was circling the priest, beautiful, stubborn and insisting. We sang the last song and to the notes of one of your favourite songs, we carried you outside. There was hardly any room because of the many flowers. When we got to your grave someone else had to take my place by your coffin. My sister was by my side. She was crying too. We threw roses into your grave, and then it was over.
Afterwards there was a wake. All your friends were there and your oldco-workers. You would have loved being there. After a few hours the last person left and we went home to dad’s place. It was so strange that you weren’t there. We had dinner together in the yard, and that was the end of that day. We had said our goodbyes.