Remember

I Remember… The phone ringing beep… “Christina it’s Grandma” something terrible has happened to mommy… beep… I rushed out of bed – not picking up the phone straight out the door… the cold air rushing though my surface… eyes filled with painful tears – gut reaching feeling without a reason… calmly I grab the phone calling home to my grandmother. She answers Chrissy is it you? “Yes Ma,” I reply – she says she’s gone… Mommy’s gone – loss of breath – bottoming out hitting the floor without understanding.

I Forget… The good times with my mother, dwelling on only the bad that occurred – the blood I had to clean all over the bathroom cause she’d miss a vein and me being embarrassed of having my friends over for them to witness my secrets. But what about her dancing around to Madonna’s finest and cooking the best food I’ve ever endured or the way she made a room light up when she walked through a door… the simplicity of her survival I forget.

I want to forget… The cause of why she was murdered… was it because of her daughters or was it because of her due’s. I want never to remember the pain – only to regain hope and strength and high beliefs that she walks on my shoulder in guidance. My change in life now is her change in spirit then.

-Christina Diglacomo