Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Celeste pulled away from the elementary parking lot after dropping Sanai off for school today. She didn't have to work today, so she made plans to visit her mother's grave site. Her mother had been gone for almost two years and everyday without her was a struggle. Celeste never imagined having to live without her mother.
Life was unfair beyond belief. It was unfair that parents didn't live forever. It was unfair that some parents buried their child. It was unfair that life was a ticking time clock and you never knew when your alarm was set.
It was unfair that she didn't get to properly say goodbye.
Every chance Celeste got she mourned at the fact that she couldn't hold her mother another day, or listen to her voice. Celeste only had one voicemail from her mother and it deleted when she purchased a new phone. Now she had nothing but the memories they shared throughout her short lived life.
Celeste's mother passed away peacefully in her sleep one night. The mother suffered from a heart condition where her heart beats were irregular– sometimes it would beat too slow and other times too fast. The medication worked for a while until it didn't. The cardiologist didn't warn the family of this abnormality.
While Celeste was working, she failed to witness her mother's final breath. There was no way of knowing she wouldn't wake up the next morning.
Celeste hated herself for a while, but her father begged her to give herself a break. What she hated even more is that Nai had no real recollection of her own grandmother. There was just a photo book, but it lacked significance to Nai.
As Celeste walked to the tombstone, she read over the engraved words for the millionth time. No one could've prepared her for a life without her mother.
Charlotte Eleanor Jones-Davis May 17, 1960 - August 24, 2019
Celeste spent the next thirty minutes cleaning the area and placing the roses around her grave. Celeste's mother loved roses that were a bright red color. Her father brought Charlotte new flowers every Sunday evening.
"I miss you..." Celeste told her mother, hoping she could somehow hear her.
Lately, Celeste had been enclosed in a series of emotions– some she couldn't explain. Life picked up the pace and she was struggling to keep up. Celeste couldn't deny that her father was getting older by the day and she would lose him too.
Celeste sat beside her mother, "Dad is doing fine and Nai started school."
People driving past probably thought she was crazy, but Celeste often said things for her own peace. Sometimes you needed to talk, but not receive a reply, and that's how she felt currently. She wanted to talk without the judgment or opinion of a living person.
"I know you never really liked my.. job. I think you would've been happy knowing I'm thinking about quitting."
Celeste and her mother often argued about her job. Her mother was more of a modest person, and hated that her own daughter had such an explicit job. She would often throw it back in Celeste's face and taunt her for it. Celeste's parents were very traditional, so her mother didn't work and stayed at home, meanwhile her father was a city bus driver.
