It was a month after Tifa woke up again when her father started removing her mother's possessions. It was subtle at first; he took her coat from the rack beside the door commenting she would not need it any more. Then her father spirited her shoes away somewhere. Tifa did not think anything of it, did not yet notice the motive. She still felt a little dazed from her missing week, still confined to the house and watched by an over-protective father. She spent most of her days on the sofa downstairs, kept entertained by books and snacks. But her father did not stop with her mother's clothing. The curtains in the living room changed one day. Her mother's favorite books vanished from the shelves, followed shortly by her ornaments. Her father was removing her mother from their lives, forcing them to move onwards by eliminating any trace of her. It was not right. It was wrong, too rushed, too desperate.
Tifa wanted to hang onto something, anything of her mother. She wanted just one memento, one thing that had once been her mother's by which she could remember her. It needed to be small and concealable. When she went to look for the photo albums she found even those gone. Running out of ideas she snuck into her parent's, no, her father's room when he was out. Her mother's wardrobe hung open and empty. At least her mother's jewelry box still sat on the dressing table. She sifted through the contents looking for something she could connect to Mom. Something that felt right. The rings were too big for her fingers and the weight of the necklaces around her neck were uncomfortable. She dug further down, her heart racing. There.
Near the bottom of the box she found a pair of pearl, teardrop earrings. She had seen her mother wear so many different earrings over the years, but these were her favorite; the ones she wore every day. Tifa regarded the delicate accessories. Only now did she realise the only way she could guarantee she would hang onto them was to wear them herself. Her fingers brushed her earlobe, contemplating the necessary steps. How painful would it be? It did not matter. She could not and would not let her father erase all traces of her mother. The physical pain would be a small price to pay for the memory.