You turned toward the sound of crying, a sniffled and ragged noise coming from someone who'd cried more tears than a human should need to. The sight of your mother sitting in the pew with you and crying her eyes out was... surreal. You knew this was reality, but her tears and wailing almost made you somehow feel worse, like it would be better off if this whole thing was just some bad dream she had.
But it wasn't. She was sitting there, watching as everyone came and pay respect to her son. The son, unbeknownst to her, who was now sitting at her side, occupying the body of his girlfriend.
This is going to be weird.
You didn't really know what to do. You'd had the time to process your death, even if had only been for a couple of days, but your mother hadn't. While you got to watch as a spectator of sorts, she had to watch as her own child was being sent on his way to be buried underground.
What were you supposed to do right now?
"..."
Slowly, almost like some kind of instinct, you reached your hand out and touched your guardian on her shoulder.
The sniffles stopped, her body seeming to freeze in place, surprised. She looked up, the sight of her red, teary face being the cherry on top of the fucked-up scenario. Her expression was a mixture of surprise, sorrow, and deep sadness.
"...Jane...?" The sound of your girlfriend's name leaving her lips was soft, almost inaudibly quiet. She stared at you, seeing the formerly depressed face of your girlfriend now filled, in her eyes, with renewed hope.
"Mo... I mean, Miss Smith." You corrected yourself, trying to stay as strong as possible. Appear stronger. "Matthew... really cared about you."
Your mother's face was shocked, the words clearly registering in her mind but not fully being processed. You took this chance to continue. "Maybe he was rude sometimes. But... he still really cares about you. He loved you... so much." You could feel yourself growing teary eyed, the burning of your girlfriend's former tears on her cheeks only making it harder. "Without you... I don't know what kind of guy he would have been like. But... I think he would have been way wor-"
And then she hugged you. She pulled you into her embrace quickly, causing you to gasp in surprise. She grasped you very tightly, pulling you so close that you could hear the sound of her heavy breathing audible like it was heavy wind.
And she cried. She cried a lot. You couldn't see her face, but you could feel her tears and snot soaking the shoulder of your girlfriend's dress. The sounds she made were ugly, heartbroken whimpers, her vocal cords no longer able to produce words, just noises of despair. Her crying and sniffling serving as a reminder that yes, this was really happening.
You were dead.
But you didn't cry about it. You still needed to stay strong, for your mother's sake.
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