by Ava Lindt
Estimated Length: 2.5-3 minutes
(Lucy Merchant walks reluctantly onstage and puts a bundle of flowers beside a pantomimed grave, blows a kiss to it, and is starting to cry. When she regains composure, she walks to the center of the stage and delivers the monologue)
I was only twelve when my mother died. It's still hard to think about it, even two years later. I mean, god, she was only 35. How can some stupid disease take someone so strong? (bursts into sudden tears) I.. I never even got to say goodbye. I never even really said that I loved her.
I would give anything, anything for her to be alive still. She was so many things to me. I mean, I really have trouble talking to Dad about "girl" stuff. He's a GUY! He tries to understand me, but we're just not that close. And with Mom dying, I lost a lot of myself along with her. They say it takes a year for a person to get over the death of a loved one. I still haven't gotten over it. I can't talk about her without a sad tone in my voice. I can't reminisce about her smiling without bursting into tears. I know that she wouldn't want this. I know she would want me to always love her but lose the horrible pain. It's hard. (Walks around the stage, studying the gravestones, stopping at the imaginary one of her mother, caressing it lovingly, stops, and gets up facing audience, looking up)
Mom, do you hear this? Do you look down on me from heaven? I wish you could answer me. I know you can't, but I want you to listen: I want to be happy more than anything. I want to stop the pain. Help me remember only the good times we had and not this horrible loss that I feel. Make it so I don't cry myself to sleep wishing you were there. Be in my dreams if you can't be in my reality. I miss you, but I guess the only thing I can say that will matter is the thing I've wished I would have said to you all of this time. I love you, mom. (walks off the stage, hands clenched, but with a certain strength)