My mom was just out for a boat ride. She loved to ride late at night, and I usually joined her. But this time, I didn't.
And this time, she died.
I don't really know why, or how. I just knew I heard singing, if you could call it that. I found her, too. Washed up, the boat gone. Her hands were blue, despite the warm, tropical water. Her eyes were bloodshot, her mouth foaming with water. And though she was laying right next to me, I knew she was gone.
And I cried into the night, cradling her alone, not bothering to get Dad. I just needed a moment. A moment to die inside, with her in my arms for the last time.
The police don't know how she died. And that's what irks me the most.
I think back to how I didn't accompany her on her mysterious boat ride. People call me lucky, but I don't feel lucky at all. I just feel empty.
And her death was the first of many.
