The following weeks passed by in a blur. I felt like I was attending a funeral I had no place at. As I looked into the casket, I knew this woman was older and looked very similar to myself. She couldn't possibly be my mother though, could she? But underneath the feeling of not belonging here, I knew this woman was in fact my mother. Her chocolate hair spread out, no longer glossy like it usually was. Her cheeks gaunt, her face too pale.
The dreams ceased once my mother died. I tried so hard to convince myself that the darkness had not swallowed her after all. That the slick roads covered in snow, the deer that ran in front of her car, they were responsible for her death. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself, deep down I knew that the darkness had taken her away. Just as it did in the dream, the dream full of death and beauty.
The funeral seemed to last forever as I stood off to the side with my mothers friends and co-workers. People I had never met before, all giving me a pat on the shoulder and a few sympathetic words. People and words that did nothing to ease the raging storm inside of me. The thought of leaving my mother behind in a box buried in the earth to start a new life with the aunt I never knew I had, was almost enough to make me want to join my mother. Let the earth swallow me whole, and the darkness take me as well.
Through all of my inner turmoil I hadn't noticed someone watching me. They were standing far enough away to not be part of the funeral. Later on, when I try to remember what this person looked like, I find myself at a loss for words. Brown hair? Or was it blonde? Pale? Or was his skin tan?
The only detail I remembered about this stranger was that it was a man. A man with the same incomprehensible beauty, almost as if he had been dipped in liquid moon light, or as if his body captured all of the suns rays.
He stared at me with a hard gaze, as if to say "No, you cannot join her in the earth. You cannot let the darkness swallow you whole."
Before I could react or comprehend what I had saw, the man was gone. And once again, I felt alone.
Three boxes was all it took to pack all of my things from the apartment. A box with clothes, another with shoes, and the last box contained some books, and a jewelry box that belonged to my mother.
I'd remember my mother pulling out this box, when she thought I was asleep, and running her fingers over the intricate design layered onto the box. The box itself was a beautiful antique. Ivory colored, with silver line work covering the entire box. She had never opened it, and when I had asked, she always told me the lost the key a long time ago. The only time my mother ever yelled at me was when I was a child, and had been caught trying to force the box open.
I sit on my old bed, in my old room, in my old life, clutching this box. That is where my aunt found me.
Looking at my aunt for the first time, I wasn't sure what I was expecting. She had the same chocolate hair as me and my mother, but it was short, cropped close to her angular face. She had the same laugh lines on her face as my mother, the same slim body, the hazel eyes. She looked just like my mother, only different. Small differences about my aunt reminded me that she couldn't be my mother. My mother was swallowed by the earth.
"Marina? I'm your aunt, April." Said the woman who looked like my mother. Her voice held sympathy, but also her own sadness. I reminded myself that I wasn't the only one who had lost their family.
"You look like her." I say, looking up from the box and into the familiar eyes of my aunt. My voice full of the sadness I wasn't quite ready to let go of.
"You do too y'know, she was my twin." Aunt April replied, taking a seat next to me on the bed, gently placing her hand on my shoulder. I took a deep breath, trying to let some of the sadness go so that I could speak.
"But not my eyes, they never looked like hers." I gave a breathy, sad excuse for a laugh. My aunt turned her head and we locked eyes. Her eyes widened the slightest bit, as if she was finally seeing me for the first time.
"No, not your eyes. But everything else is the same." She gave me a small smile, getting off of the bed and grabbing one of my boxes.
"Where are we going?" I ask, curious for the first time.
"Georgia, I have a house there. It's a really nice town, small but beautiful. I remember your mom telling me how much you hate winter." She smiled at me, this time warmly, in a way that reminded me so much of my mother I had to catch my breath.
I nodded at her and gave a small smile before gathering the rest of my boxes. Leaving the life I've grown to love behind.
"When you're ready, we can head out. Our flight leaves in a few hours." April smiled, leaving my room with the box in her hands.
'What if i'm never ready?' I couldn't help but thinking. I looked around my room, in the apartment we had lived in for two years, longer than anywhere else we had lived. The poorly painted blue walls, that I insisted my mom let me do myself when I was 14. The picture covering the hole in the wall from when me and Rachel stole some of my moms wine. All of the memories held some part of my mother in them. I couldn't help but think back to that day, never truly getting a chance to tell my mother goodbye. When I thought of us moving again, I hated it, but I would move a thousand more times as long as my mother was there.
Part of me missed dreaming of the beautiful garden. The thought of seeing my mother again, even in a dream, was better than the alternative. Since the day of the accident, I haven't returned to the garden. When I slept, I had no dreams. Thinking about the beautiful box, and my mother, I realized I had to be strong. I thought of what my mother would want for me and what she would want me to do. As much as I wanted to stay in the room filled with my old life, I had to push forward.