By Lauren Jeffery
March 19th 2014
“Pulsating” was not the word for it. My heart was trying to discharge itself. My legs wouldn’t move me away. My fingers tingled. Dead hush. Strong winds ripped through my ears. Tears pricked my cheeks. I could taste the grief. Fists clenched, I sat in pause. Rest. Just breathe. In and out. It’s over. You made it. You’re still here. Pins and needles numbed my feet. With 100 pound eyelids, I closed my eyes and tried to remember in detail the last hour of my life. I couldn’t recall one word that was said. Or who was there to say them.
“I love you”. “I need you here” Over and over again, my shaken mind repeated. It just wouldn’t stop. My heart needed peace and silence. A sturdy hand helped me to my feet. Wiping the salty tears off my face, along with once-perfect make up, the steady hand gripped my shoulder. “It’s over”. My heartbeat slowed, I felt the wind on my skin. Blood flow gushed like a flash flood through my hands and feet. I realized I was alive and I had survived my lifelong nightmare. I’d just survived my Mum’s funeral.