My God.
The grief is still there hiding under layers of cope.
I remember the cold.
I remember how early it got dark.
I remember waiting for her to come home, watching the front door like she would walk through it if I stared long enough. If I willed it.
We were told that she collapsed during her shift.
Her body finally gave out.
She fell off a loading platform after feeling dizzy, and when she hit the ground, one of the automated lift arms malfunctioned and dropped part of its load on her. Something the company couldn’tlegallybe liable as laid out in the fine print of the hiring contract.
They pulled it off her, but she was already fading. They said she whispered my name before she stopped breathing. I don’t know if that’s true or something they told kids to make them feel better.
Someone had called us and said we need to get there fast because… because she was fading.
And my dad sped all the way there…
… and for all the speeding… we didn't make it.
Man… it's the worst thing ever when all you want is to hold your loved one. When you know all they want in that moment is to hold you. When you hear whispers from other people having said that your mother begged for you, begged to see you when she was out of it and dying, only to find out that you were late only 5 minutes.
They couldn't even do CPR on her because she was… her whole rib cage was…
I'm sorry.
Even though I… my mom.
Mommy.
God I love her so much.
Every time I think about her, about that day, the tears burn my eyes.
I miss you so much Mom.
I'm so sorry I couldn't get through in time. I love you. All I want to do, all I wish for every year, is that… some way, by some miracle, I could just hold you again and tell you how much I love you.
Just hold your hand and put your head on my lap as you pass.
You broke your body and sacrificed yourself for me and Daddy and we couldn't evenbethere for you in the end.
She was pronounced dead on the warehouse floor just before 6 p.m.
My dad got the call while we were on route.
So many lights. Red and blue.
When they ushered us in, Daddy got there first.
And I remember the sound he made; a sound I’ve never heard from him before or since.
I remember him holding out his hand, begging the other workers to not let me see my mother. No one gave me real details; all I heard, in bits and pieces from people whispering off to the side, was that her body had been crushed.
I can't imagine how bad she must have looked for Daddy to not want me to see her. They did patch her up pretty well though at the wake. I could see the very fake markings of bruising and brokenness right under the skin that was covered in layers of makeup or whatever the mortician used to make her look as pretty as he could.
