More than 200 people came to her funeral that day. I was her daughter of 25 years. Asking what I would be when I grow up, I was a failure to launch from the nest. I clung close to my mother hoping that her great secrets of happiness in life would(more) rub off on me.
Unfortunately neither of us would be able to run from the inevitable face of death. Cancer. That dreadful disease took her very last breath.
There she lie in a powder blue coffin, inlaid with diamonds and the finest gold trim, ruffled satin cloth and pillow surrounding her to give us the feeling that she is resting in peace. A wooden pine box would have been acceptable to her if the money saved could have fed a starving village. But I did not make those decisions. Others took charge of the details.
Now only a figment of what was, she looked nothing like I remembered. Despite her lifeless body and pale face, friends and relatives still managed to feel honored with her presence.
As they hugged me in place of her they said to me, one by one, over and over again "Your Mother was the sweetest woman I have ever known". She was kind and thoughtful. No one can or ever will replace her.
For that short time of her funeral I took on her form. As each person hugged me, I felt the love from those mourning through me as if flowing directly to her.
Years later, I live in another dimension, with new acquaintances, and a new love in my life. The memories of old are fading. I no longer remember their names, yet someday I can just hear my friends say at my Urn "She was too sweet" and it killed her.(less)