ABSTRACT
I remember her wake like it was yesterday. I walked into the room slowly,
my mother holding my hand, once again trying to prepare myself to see her
dead. Someone forgot to give me the memo that there is no preparation for a
sight of death, though. Flowers surrounded her coffin, as well as many
pictures of her through the years, a good amount of them including me. My
grandparents, her mother (my aunt), and my older cousin stood hesitantly
watching to see how I was going to react. My grandfather had tears in his
eyes. I never saw him cry before, or his eyes so blue. She had gained weight
since her body retained a lot of fluid. They cut her thick long black hair.
My mother cried and rubbed her arm. I had never been so close to a dead
body before. My aunt stood on the other side of me, placing me in the
middle, and all she kept repeating was “Oh Mahogany,” as tears slowly crept
down her face. I stared at her body. She looked as if she was sleeping. I
wanted her to wake up, but I knew she wouldn’t. I shed a few tears but I
don’t think it hit me just yet that she was gone.
