Make It out Alive

The phone rang at an unearthly hour especially after my hours of crying, but I reached out and picked it up anyway. "Bryson."
"Polly Bryson?"

"Speaking," I replied, biting back a yawn. "Who's calling?"

"My name is Shelley, I work at the Gunther funeral home in Grand Rapids, Michigan. I'm very sorry to have to call about this, but your mother has passed away," the nameless woman told me.

"I- I'll fly out at once," I said, feeling far away.

Spencer was coming home tomorrow, but I would be leaving to make my mother's funeral arrangements. My mother. The reason I was alive, in more ways then one. She had died. It seemed unreal, like some awful dream I would wake from and find myself in Spencer's arms. I would have taken hundreds of dreams of Calvetin then this. This was more anguish then I had ever known.

I was moments away from the airport when I called Hotch. "I'm so sorry for the last minute notice," I sobbed. "My mom died, and I have to fly back to Michigan to make the arrangements."

"Polly, take all the time you need," he said, his voice was soothing.

"Thank you," I cried.

The cab driver was sympathetic and helped me with my bag and placed a friendly hand on my shoulder. "One's we love never leave us," he said, pointing to his heart. "This is where my mother is."

I smiled through my tears. "Thank you."