I can't believe she's gone. I knew it was happening, but I still can't believe it. My brain is still planning on things she and I had planned on, and I can't wrap my head around the fact that she's gone.

My Mama passed away yesterday morning. I can't believe it. It's 24 hours later, and I'm surprised I made it through the day. I'm so tired, and sick... but I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see the image of her twisted face, her dying body withering before my eyes. She looked nothing like my Mama.

My hand was on her chest when her heart stopped beating. She stopped breathing first, but her heart was beating faintly. I whispered one last goodbye as she slipped away.

All I can see is her gasping for air, her tiny frame shivering with fever. Because she looked so different, part of me expects my Mom to just walk through the door. I look at pictures of her...they're everywhere. This woman isn't dead, she looked nothing like the yellowed corpse whose hand I held until it grew cold and hard. I knew I would be with her when she died.

I don't have a Mom anymore. My mom is dead. I repeat this out loud to myself at regular intervals, trying to believe it. I can't. The fight went on forever, my family seemed invincible. How is she gone?

This is when the fears invade your mind as to whether or not there really is a Heaven. Did she just die, only to become an eternal part of the dirt? It's terrifying. This is why we have faith. This is why there must be a God. This is why I am allowed to believe I will see her again someday. Dear Lord, quiet my fears and put my mind at ease. Replace the images in my mind with those of joy.

I sit alone in my apartment, willing myself to cry. I've been holding it in, holding it back. I am told repeatedly how sorry everyone is for my loss, and instructed to be joyful that her suffering is over, and she's in a much better place. These things are true, of course... but why can't I mourn the loss of my mother?

I am alone with myself, with my thoughts, and when I let my mind wander into sadness, panic steers me in a different direction. Maybe I'm not ready to deal with it, or maybe I already have. Either way... I'm momentarily grateful for the distractions my brain has been occupying itself with.

I'll go now. We have a meeting at the Funeral Home in a few hours to pick out the casket and bring her dress, makeup and jewelry. Then we have a meeting at Calvary after that to plan her service. Keeping busy will help.

I love you, Mama. You went to Heaven at Seven. Your favorite number. It's a holy number too. I miss you.