I stare out the windshield, my body still as my heart slows to a near stop inside my chest. I don't blink, I don't respond, I just stare. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. I hear my dad's voice as he says my name in the receiver, but I barely even notice. My mind has evacuated my body. Suddenly the only thing I can see is my mother laying bloody in the twisted metal of her convertible. It's like my mind has to create its own visual of what happened, and the images flashing in my head are ghastly.

I can't.

I just can't.

Suddenly my chest is concaving as staggering waves of horror crash into me. I'm pulling in deep breathes as my body competes to gulp in oxygen at the same rate that I'm releasing my devastation. It's no competition. My lungs can't keep up. I'm gasping, sobs muffled behind my trembling fingers as I cup them around my cries of anguish.

I've dropped my phone somewhere, and a moment later I'm alerted to a voice to my left. I think it's Seth's voice, but I don't care if he's talking to me; I can't respond. My mind is swirling and surging with only one fact:

My mother is dead.

The woman that I love more than my own life. The woman who understands me like no one else ever could. The woman who graciously gives up so much of herself just to spend a moment encouraging me or participating in senseless activities with me.

I'm not ready. I'm not ready to say goodbye. She was supposed to be invincible. She's supposed to carry me when I'm weak. She's supposed to give me advice when I'm lost. She's supposed to love me when nobody else does. She's supposed to be here offering me her strength, her courage, her wisdom.

I can't continue on without her. How am I supposed to go on now? Who else will drop everything just for a moment of sporadic fun? Who will give up their entire day just to go on a foolish road trip with me?

I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't...

I'm just about to tell Seth to pull over, but he's already done so. We're suddenly parked on the edge of the abandoned country roads and I have no idea how we got here. My whole body is shaking. My heart seems to be pumping horror into my veins and I can't get myself under control.

With fumbling fingers, I yank my door open and stumble out. I drop to the ground, my stomach heaving up all the breakfast I just enjoyed. I don't know what it's trying to do, but I feel like my own guts are trying to kill me. I need to purge my body of these emotions. I need to not feel this horrible aching pain in my chest anymore. So, without any control over my actions, I vomit again.

I'm choking and crying as I sit crouched along the side of the road, my eyes unable to fully comprehend my surroundings. Everything outside of my body is gone. The only thing that I can hear, see, or feel is now pumping a beat of chaotic grief into my bloodstream.

Once there's nothing left in me to empty, I lean back on the balls of my feet, my stinging eyes slowly lifting to find Seth rounding the hood of the truck. He doesn't have to say anything; I can see the horror written clearly on his face. Somehow we're communicating without words, and in the same instant that I push myself into standing, he's coming forward and wrapping me in his arms.

I can feel his body shuddering along with mine as a sorrow from somewhere deep inside of me unravels. This is real. All of this is really happening.

It's then I realize that we're wasting time. My dad is alone right now, suffering in solitude. With a near sense of panic, I'm bolting from Seth's arms and scrabbling to get into the truck.

"We have to get home," I say with urgency, though my words are thick with emotion that has yet to be released.

I already know the ride home will be hell. We've got over two hours and I don't know if I'll survive the ride. I feel helpless. I need to do something. There has to be something that I can do. And yet, there's nothing. So, I just hide my face against my window as misery pours from my eyes in constant streams. My mouth feels swollen and raw, and I bite down on my bottom lip, tasting the salt from my tears as I do so.

Silence hangs in the truck, but I barely notice. There's no tension between Seth and I because my mind can't even bother worrying about us at the moment. The only thing on repeat in my head is my dad. He's completely alone. He's a widower. His life-long partner is suddenly gone, and he has nobody but himself in that big house.

My mind wanders to the love they shared. They never had problems like Seth and me. They were best friends. They were there for each other, they supported each other, they loved each other. How will my dad move past this? Is the death of a loved one actually something that a person can emotionally live through? Because, right now, I'm positive that happiness has just been murdered. I'll never laugh with my mother again. I'll never see her name flashing on my phone in hopes that I'll drop everything for her next crazy adventure.

I'm suddenly remembering our last dinner with them. The horrible way I acted. All she wanted was grandchildren, and I just flung that idea in her face, too angry at Seth to consider her feelings. Now she'll never meet her grandchildren. If Seth and I ever decide to have kids, none of them will ever know my mom. She will be a smiling face in a photo and that's it. They won't love her. They won't miss her. They won't understand the incredible person that she is... was.

This realization has my heart snapping in half and I smother my face in my hands. When my sobs fill the cab of Seth's truck again, I feel the vehicle lurch forward as we accelerate. I know we've got to be going way over the speed limit, but I couldn't care less. Handcuff me and throw me in prison, I don't care anymore. Nothing about this life seems to matter anymore. All I want to do is arrive home to find my mom alive and well as she greets me at the door. I want to throw myself at her and let her rub comfort into my emotionally exhausted body.

I need to hug my mom.

I need to hear her tell me it's going to be okay.

I need to tell her that I love her.

I need to watch her chest rise and fall with breath.

I need to feel the pulsing of her heartbeat beneath my ear as I hold her tight.

I need her.

I need my mom.

My cries must drain me completely because I feel my eyes start to drift shut as my tears dissipate. Glad for sleep, I allow myself to lay down, my head resting on Seth's thigh as I willingly try to doze off. At least if I'm sleeping then I'm not crying or aching. Sleep is the one place I can go to escape reality, and after an hour of ceaseless weeping, I'm grateful for a break.

Something slithers through my hair, a tender caress against my throbbing skull. I welcome the sensation of Seth's fingers as they comfort and stroke me into a peaceful rest. It's such a tender moment, and I suddenly realize how appreciative I am of his presence. He's not going to abandon me. He's already assured me of that. So now, instead of worrying over our future, I melt into his comforting touches and let my mind quiet as sleep takes over.

———

I wake with a jolt, my body bolting from its reclined position to find Seth pulling into my parent's driveway. Only, the moment I spot the large home I realize that it's not my parent's home anymore. It's my dad's. Because no one other than him lives here anymore.

I pinch my eyes tightly together, forcing back another bout of tears as I reach for the door handle. My throat aches as I swallow down my sorrow. I don't want to step out of the vehicle because I fear what will happen when my feet hit the driveway pavement. I just want to lay here and pretend everything's okay. I just want to sleep and never wake up.

Tentatively, I swing the door open. I glance unseeingly at the ground as dread seeps into my bloodstream. With careful movements, I slide out of my safe haven and into the real world. I'm somewhat surprised by the comfort I feel when I step out of Seth's truck. I'd been expecting things to come crashing down on me with a sickening reality the moment I arrived. Instead, I feel soothed. This place is still warm and familiar—my mother's passing didn't change that fact. It just makes me aware that something is missing. Something devastatingly important.

I'm not a runner, but I've never moved as fast as I do as I rush toward the home's front door. I don't even bother knocking or ringing the doorbell. I swing it open, belting for my dad the moment I enter. My frantic eyes take in my surroundings in one quick sweep, and then I spot him in the archway leading into the living room.

We lock eyes and my shoulders fall. He offers a broken smile, and that's all I need to see before I'm falling apart. All the emotions I'd just spent hours ridding from my body suddenly resurface with a vengeance as I hurry to close the distance between us. My dad's arms encircle me with a quivering, defeated strength.

He holds me to him, as if breaking our hold will break some sort of temporary grasp on sanity. His muffled sobs against my shoulder only manage to deflate my fortitude. I'm crying like I've never cried before, clinging to my father with such desperation that I worry that I'm hurting him. But his pain is so far beyond the physical that I doubt that anything apart from that could impact him.

He begins to pull away, sniffing as he wipes his red eyes. I pinch the bridge of my nose again, fighting to keep back another wave of grief. If he can sober up and be strong right now, then so can I.

I wipe my shaky hands off on my jean shorts, watching my dad as he pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket to blow his nose.

"Does Hope know?" I ask after clearing my throat a few times.

"Yeah," Dad answers with a nod. "She gets in tomorrow morning around nine."

"Will she need picked up from the airport?" a voice says from behind me, and I swivel to find Seth keeping a respectable distance from the two of us. "I'd be happy to get her."

"Please," my dad says gratefully.

The room falls quiet for a moment, each of us working to reign in this new reality. It doesn't feel real though. Any minute, I expect my mom to come prancing down the stairs. I expect to glance up and see her smiling face, hints of mischief and excitement woven into the age lines around her eyes. I don't see that though. Instead, the house remains still, quiet, empty, dreary.

"When's the funeral?" I ask, hoping to crack the silence that has settled into the echoing home.

"Wednesday," he says.

I just nod, hating that we're even having this conversation. This isn't right. My mom has been around for what feels like an eternity. My world has never existed without her in it. Now suddenly, she's vanished. The only part of her that still exists on this earth is her body. Her spirit, her soul, her life... they're gone. The very parts of her that made her who she was—the very parts of her that I loved the most—they're all gone.

Without speaking, my dad and I find ourselves stepping into the living room and taking seats on the plush leather couches. My dad just stares at his feet while I gaze at the blinding light beaming through the bay window. It's painful how dazzling it is in this horrific moment. Nothing should be happy right now. Nothing should feel warm and fuzzy. But somehow these rays of light feel like hot chocolate around a fire. I'm not mad at the light for casting its joy over us. I'm just grateful for its willingness to offer even a speckle of light into this black hole we've been dropped into.

"What happened?" I find myself asking. This question has my dad pulling his eyes away from the dark blue rug at his feet and finding my eyes with his own.

"Car—" He chokes. Blinks. Then clears his throat. "Car accident. She died instantly, they said."

Then he goes on to elaborate. It was the most typical car accident that someone could imagine—some idiot driving through a red light—but even though you hear of these accidents all the time, you never imagine that you'll have a front-row seat in experiencing the horrors of its aftershock.

This wasn't supposed to happen to us. My mom was supposed to be the one who just barely made it through the intersection before the out-of-control driver barreled through. She was supposed to come home laughing and babbling on about how close she was to being smushed to smithereens today. But that's not what happened. The timing was perfect. Too perfect. Fatally perfect. He just slammed right into the driver's side door and she was gone. She probably didn't even have a moment to process her fate. Her brain was gone before she could even react.

Apparently, if she had survived, her life would have been over anyway. She'd have been mentally handicapped from the impact her head took. She'd have been alive, but not really living.

I guess that's one thing to be grateful for. Had she survived, she would have lived a miserable life. I'm glad for her that she will never have to experience life restrained to a wheelchair without the ability to talk, walk, or feed herself.

I'm sick with grief.

I'm angry that I've been denied a full life with my mother.

I'm horrified that this is now my new reality.

But, what I find to be the strangest emotion twisting around in my chest is this odd sense of gratefulness. I'm grateful that she didn't suffer when it happened. I'm grateful she's in a better place. I'm even grateful that she'll never have to experience the sorrows of growing old and withering away with age. My mom has always been strong—the strongest person I know. I would hate to watch that strength deteriorate before my eyes. I'm grateful she never had to experience blindness, hearing loss, dementia. She died happy, and I can't help but feel relieved about that one simple blessing in this whole dark mess.

A noise toward the entrance of my parent's home has me swinging my eyes in that direction. I spot Seth dropping pieces of luggage on the floor as he kicks off his shoes. Then he glances up and meets my eyes before hesitantly making his way into the living room to join us.

"I figured you'd want to stay here tonight," he explains, his voice soft as a whisper. I notice he's also brought in his own luggage and I realize that he has no intention of leaving me here.

He takes a seat beside me, sliding a hand over my arm before slipping his fingers between my own. I then retell the story my dad just shared, but I leave out the details that are too difficult to voice. Seth brings my hand to his lips, kissing the skin gently before dropping it to his lap where he cradles it between his rough palms. The tenderness of his actions has tears skimming my cheeks once again.

I can see worry and pain on his face, but he doesn't spill any more tears. He let himself weep once while he was holding me on the side of the road, but he's been composed since then. He's being strong for me. That's the only explanation because I know how close he was with my mom. He viewed her as his very own mother. The mother he never had.

And now my heart weeps for even him because today Seth lost just as much as I did.