Hiding in that closet, I knew no one could see me, and for that reason, I let my tears flow. Black tears sliding down, falling off my chin, black streaks left in their wake.

In my mind, the scene was playing out again and again. A bright flash of lights, followed by a screeching of brakes, then two screams, so heart-wrenching the way they intertwined. The ambulance came quickly, full of flashing lights and sirens, both piercing the dark atmosphere. Two people inside them, hands joined. But only one would come out. She would feel guilty for the rest of her life, always wondering why she was the only one left. The nurses had hovered above her when she woke up, fluorescent lights glaring behind them.

"She's gone," they had said.

She blinked her eyes in disbelief.

"Gone?" I had asked

"Gone," they had repeated.

Hearing that one word was devastating.

Gone. The word floats in the air around me, trying to suffocate me.

My mother will forever be attached to one word, gone.