That night when I fell asleep I had the same night from the dream before except when my father died, the dream didn't stop. An orange mist rose out of his body.
"Rose," a voice said. "I'm so sorry."
I shot up in bed. I had to take a few deep breaths before I was finally calm and rational. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep again, so I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When I got down there, a heard a noise. It sounded like someone crying.
I slunk silently into the doorway and peered into the darkness in the living room. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw my mother curled into a ball on the couch crying her eyes out quietly.
Now I understood. If she was grieving this way, she didn't want us to see, so she just pretended nothing was different during the day and crying all night. That must be why she hadn't started planning the funeral.
I thought about going over to help her, but decided against it. She wasn't interrupting my grieving, so why should I interrupt hers?
I went back upstairs, grabbed a feel-good book, and curled up to read the night away.