"And I promise that it's not your fault, it was never your fault."
---
Sylvia is still sleeping when I open my eyes. The sun has risen, casting its light upon the earth and peeking through the curtains to remind us that for everyone else, life goes on as per normal.
I check the clock, it's 9 a. m. on a Monday. The school has been informed of the situation and we're given a week off to grieve. I wonder if anyone has ever finished grieving in a week.
I leave Sylvia's bedroom to go downstairs. Mom is in the kitchen, putting breakfast on the table. It's surreal, seeing Mom at home after 7a.m., a part of me wants to check if she's real, but I don't think I can handle feeling my hand pass through her body.
Mom looks up and smiles at me.
"Morning, sweetie, how are you today? Is Sylvia still asleep?"