The days after watching the video feel like a blur. I’m not sure how long it’s been—whether it’s hours or days—but the weight in my chest hasn’t lifted. If anything, it’s settled in deeper, like a stone I can’t shake.
I move through the house like I’m sleepwalking, going through the motions but not really feeling anything. Nanna tries to talk to me, her eyes full of concern, but I can’t bring myself to say much. What is there to say? How do you put into words the storm that’s raging inside you?
I haven’t watched the video again. I can’t bring myself to. Once was enough.
But the more I try to push it away, the more it lingers—my mother’s face, her voice, her final words. It’s like she’s still here, haunting me with all the things she never got to say when she was alive. And I don’t know
