Mom.
The sun was setting over a quiet cemetery in Ohio as ten-year-old Abby Collins walked into the chapel, her small hand wrapped tightly around her Aunt Laura’s.
At the center of the room rested a polished wooden casket.
Inside was her mother, Mary Collins.
Still. Peaceful.
Gone.
People dressed in black filled the room, whispering condolences, sharing memories through tears. Candles flickered softly, casting warm light over grief that felt anything but warm.
Abby stepped forward slowly.
Her heart pounded.
This was it.
Her last goodbye.
Mary had been her whole world.
A single mom. Her best friend. Her safe place.
For years, they had faced everything together—even the long, brutal fight against breast cancer.
And now…
Abby was alone.
As she looked at her mother’s face one last time, something inside her broke.
But then she remembered something.
Her hands trembled as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her mother’s phone.
Aunt Laura noticed.
“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” she asked gently.
Abby nodded, barely holding back tears.
“I want her to know I’m still with her… even if we can’t talk anymore.”
Step by step, she approached the casket.
Each movement felt heavier than the last.