And now this check was in my hand, bought and paid for with her life. I climbed the steps to my apartment and slid back down to my knees once I was in the kitchen. We could’ve had more flowers at her funeral. We could’ve decided on the casket with the rose-gold handles. We could’ve buried her in a designer gown with diamond rings on every finger and black pearls around her neck. Instead, my mother would wear the suit her sister picked out for her until the fabric disintegrated and succumbed to the dirt and worms. My ears rang with everything we could’ve done, everything we could no longer do.
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