Elizabeth Fern

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It was raining that day. People all stared at me, as if they’re waiting for me to break down. Truth is, I really do want to cry my heart out but I can’t. I can’t even speak. It’s as if there’s a huge lump in my throat. I gazed at my daughter lovingly. Her fair skin, her long black hair . A garland of ferns and yellow roses crowned her head, just the way she requested it. She looked beautiful in that white dress she’s wearing. She looked exactly like her mother, except for her hair. Her mother was blonde and she got her jet black hair from me. She was the perfect daughter. It hurts to let her go .Tears welled up in my eyes as I closed the lid of her coffin. She was only 16 years old when she died.