When Cheryl Blossom said, "Her name was Heather," No one else heard The silent emphasis, but it rang in my ears. A persistent stinging in the back of my throat, tearing at my eyes pouring from my mouth, coating my ******* thick, black and red vicious drink of liars.
You were an amazing band mom. You were stern: “Come back here and pick up your uniform!” You were kind: “I packed you a lunch for your long day.” You were an incredible principal. You were stern: “You really need to start turning in your homework.” You were kind: “If you come to my office after school, I will help you.” You were a wonderful mother. You were stern: “Come here right now and put your clothes away!” You were kind and loving: “If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here.” Even though you were taken So suddenly from us yesterday, No one will forget you and How you influenced everybody in your circle and Beyond. Today is one of those gloomy rainy days, And I know why. It’s because even the heavens are crying for you.
On December 26th, the Lord took my good friend's mother, Heather, up to heaven to be with Him. These are all sentences she either said to me or I heard her say. Her death was very sudden, and she will be missed by so many.
Home. He whispered. I felt the warmth slide down the smooth skin just behind my ear. Home. His lips pressed gently upon my forehead. Come home. This time louder. Harsher. Come home darling. His accent thick and broad. Aren't you tired? Come rest by my side. Come drift in the heather high on the moors. Come home to me. Aren't you weary from the fight shield maiden? Lay down your broad sword, remove your boiled leather let the ravens report your homecoming. Come home. Then his lips are on mine and they taste of the earth, of the dirt, of the mist, and that land of mine. Home. My eyes open and I see my ghost. I knew it was you. Must it always be ? Must it always be you who awakens me, who calls me home. Just send me the mist. Just send me the moors. Just send me the piercing chill of the harbor in December. Wake me with the ancient call of gulls. Enough of the tortured remnants of the past we must both hide. Enough of this my love. Enough of this, goodbye.