So Beautiful......So Gone

I pass your room
The door is ajar so the air won't get stale.
Going downstairs, I look to see what the postman brought.
Did you get any mail?
No.
So I cry.

I remember how wide your eyes were
when you saw your first Lady Bug.
I remember how sincere you were
when you asked how I could tell it was a lady.
I remember laughing.
So I cry.

I go to the grocery store.
I find myself picking up Fruit Loops.
I was just looking at them but I got all
the way to the register before I remembered
no one here ate Fruit Loops but you.
So I cry.

I remember how full of joy you were
on you High School Graduation Day.
I remember how your Dad and I said
we were afraid to let you out of the house.
Surely your boy friend would keep you forever.
I shiver…..and I cry.

I pick up my cup of coffee and can't hold it.
It bounces on the carpet and rolls under the coffee table.
The stain it leaves is brown.
Like old blood.
I want to scream and throw things at the wall.
So I cry.

I remember how you look in the picture
I took as you got into the limousine.
Your smile is big and bright.
You are just gorgeous. Jeff is so striking
in that formal jacket and all.
None of us had ever been happier.
I get a tissue and try to stop my trembling.

I hear the car pull up out front.
I get my coat and stumble toward the door.
Your Dad comes in and lets me lean on him.
Then I realize we are leaning on each other.
Thank God, he is here.
Just a few steps.
Just a short drive.
I try not to cry.

I remember when the policeman woke us at 3 AM.
I remember how pale and nervous he looked.
I remember how he was having trouble speaking.
He didn't have to.  What else could it have been?
I remember trying not to believe it.
I didn't cry.
I had to see for myself.

The ride is short but it takes forever.
The parking lot is crowded but there is
a special place for family.
If I get out of the car, I have to admit
where we are going.
I DON'T WANT TO.
I don't want to.

I remember just KNOWING they had confused you
with some wild, drunk girl with no father
and a horrendous  mother who didn't care about her.
I remember being almost eager for them to
remove the sheet so I could say
NO. That's not my daughter. Not my Angel.
NO.  No.  no.  Oh, no.

I get out of the car because I don't know what else to do.
The door of the church is about a million miles away.
I know we will never make it there.
Somehow we do.
People touch me. I endure it. They loved you, too.
I float on a cloud of shock toward my worst nightmare.
I can't stop shaking.

I remember how surprised I was when I saw it was you.
The blood clashing badly with the pink of your prom dress.
Your once fashionable hair stiff with your own blood.
Jeff was on the next table. 
I couldn't make myself look  at him.
Then I knew it was true.
So I cried.

I can't count the number of people who file past your casket.
Church friends. School Friends. Work friends. Family.
Most of them are crying.
I hear "I can't believe this happened" over and over.
I know there will be people who will speak of how wonderful,
how full of life, how much promise, how missed.
And I know when they finish we will get back into that car
and drive to where we have to put you in the ground
and leave you forever.

And I will always remember that.
And I will always cry.