Knitted Hearts by Amber Kelly

Sonia

We are all gathered in the church for Momma’s service. I’m still numb. I’m going through the motions, but none of it seems natural. I’m not sure when the full impact of this loss will hit me. I’m assuming it will be once the service is over and everyone who has been so close and kind the past couple of days returns to their routine when Momma is in the ground and not in her shop on Monday morning.

I’m seated in the front row with Don on one side and Foster on the other. As I look up to the front of the aisle and see Momma’s casket, my mind drifts back to the day that we were here, in this same church, seated in this exact spot, saying our good-byes to Daddy.

I bet he danced a jig in heaven when she came through the gate.

That thought makes me smile, and then I realize that they left me. Both of them left me. Neither will be there when I have children of my own.

Foster leans in and tugs me into his side.

“They left me,” I mutter, and all of a sudden, I can’t breathe.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Foster asks.

“I’m an orphan now. They both left me,” I say again. My voice is trembling.

“No, you’re not,” he says as he tilts his head. “Look behind you, sweetheart. There is a wall of motherly love at your back.”

I turn to the pew behind ours and see Doreen, Ria, Madeline, Dottie, Beverly, Elaine, and Edith.

Doreen reaches her hand to my shoulder, and they all join hands.

“We’ve got you, dear.”

Then, she looks out the window. “We’ve got her, Kathy. You can rest easy, my sweet friend.”