"You can't stay there all day." I glanced up at my mum who was throwing open the curtains with the wild abandon of someone who's world wasn't ending.

"Moping never did anyone any good." She flung open the window.

"Come on. ..." she reached for my duvet as if to pull it away. I wrapped my fingers tighter around the edges, pulling it closer.

She rolled her eyes and gave it a harder tug.

"Mu-uuum". I complained. My voice sounding hoarse from all the crying. It had been days since I'd spoken a word.

"A shower. That's what you need. A nice hot shower. Wash your hair. Put on some clean clothes. Proper clothes. A bit of lipstick"

I almost wanted to laugh. Lipstick? Only my mum would genuinely believe you could patch up a broken heart with lipstick.

"I'm tired." I rolled over, turning my back on her.

"Listen here." I couldn't see her, but I knew she had placed her hands on her hips, about to scold me as if I was an errant toddler and not a grown woman who's husband had just died. "He wouldn't want you to mope."

How do you know? How do you know what he would have wanted? How would anyone? I knew him better than anyone in the entire world. He was my world and it turns out I barely knew him at all. I had no idea he was so sad. I had no idea he planned to ... jump.

Of course, I kept silent and dutifully let mum lead me to the bathroom. .