Never

I don't want to do this. But I strut my lead-heavy feet into this disgust-filled room and over to the box. This little, silk-lined box, polished and clean--for now. Her face is old, not how I used to know it. Her eyes are closed...
She's asleep, I tell myself, But how does she look so old?
And as I stand there in front of everyone, feeling their pity and remorse stabbing into my back, I look down at her again and hear a whispering shout.
My baby, my baby, don't you cry.
In shocking awe, I reach down and touch her hand--cold. Death once again fills my head like an aching disease, and I feel that stabbing pain choke me as it dwells in my throat. The soundless tears begin to fall, and once again I hear her faint voice.
Shh, don't you cry. I'm okay, baby girl, I'm okay.
No you're not, I silently scream back to her, You're not okay, Momma, you're dead, you're gone.
But I'm here with you, she says back, I'm always with you.
But I miss you, I miss you so much.
Now, my sobs become rivers, and their roaring current brings me to my knees. And as I sit there on my feet, with my face buried helplessly into my hands, she attempts to calm me once more.
Baby girl, please hush those tears, I hate seeing you cry. I miss you so very much, too. But you can't cry forever. You have to live.
But it hurts so much, I whisper to her, almost audibly now, It hurts so much I don't think I can.
You can do anything, she tells me, You can do anything, and you know it.
Do I? I ask her. Do I know it?
Yes, you do, she assures me. You do, but you must dig deep.
Then, I feel her refulgent, ethereal hands on my shoulders, and my lamenting sobs surcease. I turn to see the hands of my sisters. I stand to embrace their warm understanding, and my mother renders one last thought into my mind.
I love you, and don't you ever forget that.
Never.

And I never heard her voice again.