Mark rested his chin lightly on the top of her head, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know… I don't know why it happened." He took a shaky breath. "But we're going to be okay. We have to be. That's what Mom would have wanted."
Jacqueline pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Her tear-filled eyes met his, and for a moment, they didn't speak. Their gazes locked, raw pain mirrored between them. Mark brushed a strand of hair away from her face and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb.
"We're going to get through this," he said softly.
Jacqueline nodded, though her lips trembled. "Promise?"
"I promise." His voice cracked slightly, but the conviction in his words was clear.
Jacqueline melted back into his embrace, her arms tightening around his neck as she sobbed quietly. Mark held her close, his grip firm as if anchoring her to reality.
Meanwhile, Jerry and I sat huddled together on the couch, still wrapped in each other's arms. Jerry's fingers combed gently through my hair as he rocked me slightly, his voice murmuring soothing words I barely registered.
"It's okay, baby sis," he whispered, though I could feel his chest heaving with suppressed sobs. "We're here. We're not going anywhere."
I clung to him, pressing my face into his chest, finding comfort in the steady beat of his heart. I looked over at Mark and Jacqueline, who were still locked in their embrace.
Despite the grief, their bond radiated strength, something I knew we all needed to hold onto. It was as though their closeness gave us permission to lean on each other, to grieve without fear of falling apart completely.
The room remained heavy with sorrow, but for the first time since Mom took her last breath, I felt a flicker of hope. We were broken, but we weren't shattered. Not as long as we had each other.
We weren't alone. It felt as though mom was around.
Mom's love lingered in the room, carried through the comforting touch of my brothers, the warm embrace of my sister, and the words that echoed in my heart, "I'll always be with you."
******
I was born an introvert, and losing my mother only pushed me further into my shell. I had no friends outside my family. My mom, Jacqueline and Emily had always been my closest companions, but after Mom's sudden death, I found myself leaning more on my dad, grandpa, brothers and Monica as well.
Her passing felt like the end of the world, an emptiness I couldn't fill. My entire life had been turned upside down. But through the unbearable sorrow, having my siblings and dad around gave me a fragile sense of wholeness, like thin threads holding together the fraying edges of my heart.
It was the day of the burial, and despite every bone in my body screaming not to go, I knew I had to. I owed it to Mom to say my last goodbye. The mere thought of seeing her lifeless body buried in the ground terrified me, but I had no choice.
I barely had any strength left. The past three days had been a haze of endless tears and sleepless nights. I had struggled to eat, struggled to breathe. Only three days without her, and it already felt like an eternity.
Thank God for Dad, Mark, and Jerry. Most of all, thank God for Jacqueline. My sister had stepped in like a second mother, filling the aching void Mom had left behind. At just 20, she had become our anchor, holding us together even while her own world was crumbling. Despite being 4 years younger than Mark and 2 years younger than Jerry, it was as though she was the eldest at the moment.
Jacqueline was a remarkable girl. Strong, loving, and selfless. She was also beautiful, breathtakingly so.
Standing at about 5'8", her slender yet athletic figure carried a natural elegance. Her heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, and delicate nose gave her an almost ethereal beauty. But it was her full, dimpled smile that lit up the room, even in the darkest of times. It was the kind of smile that could chase away storms and make flowers bloom.
Her eyes were a dazzling shade of light brown, deep and expressive, always dancing with warmth despite the pain she carried inside. Her hair cascaded down her back in silky waves, a deep black with hints of auburn that shimmered in the light.
Yet, for all her beauty, Jacqueline never carried herself like she knew it. She was effortlessly charming, completely unpretentious and unaware of the impact she left on those around her. And now, in my darkest hour, she was my rock.
She had just finished helping me wash and dress when Mark walked into the room.
"Are you girls ready?" he asked, his voice strained but steady.
"Almost," Jacqueline replied. She turned to me, brushing my hair back gently. "Stay here for a moment, okay? I'll be right back."
I nodded as she stood and followed Mark out of the room. They walked downstairs, where Jerry was waiting in the living room. Dad had already gone ahead to the cemetery, and Emily and Monica had been away from home.
Jacqueline's calm demeanor faltered as she faced the boys. Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back, determined to stay strong.
"Before we go," she said, her voice trembling, "I need to say something." She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Mom is gone. Dad is a wreck, and you know how hard this has been for baby sis. We're all she has right now. We need to stay strong for her, for each other."
Her tears finally broke free, sliding down her cheeks. Mark stepped forward, pulling her into his arms.
"Let it out now," he murmured, stroking her back as she sobbed softly into his chest. "You have to let it out before we get there."
He handed her a tissue and kept patting her back gently, his touch steady and reassuring. As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the weight of their grief pressed between them.
Jerry quietly left to check on me. He found me sitting on my bed, clutching a framed photo, Mom's last picture. In it, Mom lay in her hospital bed with Jacqueline and me by her side. Her arms wrapped around us, and we were all smiling. But Jacqueline's smile stood out, her dimples adding a glow that none of us could match.
Jacqueline had the photo framed. We had planned to gift it to Mom when she got discharged from the hospital. But now, it was just another reminder of dreams that would never come true.
Jerry sat beside me, his voice soft. "It's beautiful. If Mom had seen it, she would've loved it."
Tears blurred my vision as I whispered, "She never got to see it."
Jerry wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. "I know… but she knew how much we loved her."
He stood up, brushing my hair back gently. "Come on. It's time to go."
I placed the photo on my bedside table and stood. Before I could take a step, Jerry scooped me into his arms.
"Put me down," I protested weakly. "I can walk."
He laughed softly but set me down. Together, we headed outside, where Mark and Jacqueline were waiting by the car.