Her fingers went lax and the necklace dropped to the floor, the sound loud in the grieving silence. My heart hammered in my chest and I felt something building in my throat straining for release.

An inhuman keen filled the room and it wasn’t until my brother had his arms around me that I realized where the gut wrenching sound came from. He whispered in my ear, his tears dampening my neck and I could not stop the awful noise that tore from my throat.

My sisters huddled together, sobbing quietly and it seemed that I gave voice to all our grief. I felt it, a cold weight in my chest that I couldn’t get out, would never get out.

Finally my throat self destructed under the onslaught and I was forced to quiet. My brother led me to a chair. I sat, trying to breathe and recognized our mother’s necklace pressed into my hands. I put it on.

I am not far away, I heard. The pendant grew warm and I felt her warmth around me. I understood now. I grieved still, but I would carry her memory, and be a living Memento Mori.