As they identified our lost ones a tear filled my eyes. Viciously, I wiped it away. My head started to bloom with memories negative and positive. I remembered driving through the dark streets. Was it my fault? Surprisingly, an unlikely old woman with light grey eyes that was like the stories my father used to tell me. Chills went down my spine! The next minute a great disaster approached us. As I turned round it changed shape. So depressed: depressed because it was a funeral. That’s my mother’s story. And how I ended up as nothing. Please I need help….