Sands of Yore **COMPLETE, being re-written**

Through the Sands of Time - PROLOGUE

I had decided just to upload the rewrite here, may be easier, I suppose, (to me anyway)

I hope you enjoy, this one...

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Bangor, Maine, USA
August 21st, 2012

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No one spoke as they gathered around the burial site, and final resting place of Marjorie Bernadette DuMont.

The rain pelted heavily down upon them, as if the angels in heaven were mourning the loss of a magnificent woman; understanding the overwhelming grief that Bailey was in as she stared down, numb with pain, at her mother's tombstone.

A sob escaped past her lips and her throat constricted.

Bailey's heart felt incredibly heavy and it felt as though that with a simple touch - even a feather - would break the remaining resolve she had.

Everyone had said that death happened; that it was a normal cycle in this life but if that were the case then why were funerals held? Why mourn for loved ones that have passed if it was normal? Indeed, death was normal, but some individuals feared it.

Bailey took in a shattering breath as her vision blurred from tears that welled in her eyes, overflowing. It had been days since her mom had lost the battle with cancer, days since she began crying nonstop, and she was incredibly fed up with crying. But as the rain continued to pour relentlessly down on them, she was thankful that the rain had soaked her from head to toe so that the tears were mixed.

Gritting her teeth, fighting down the sobs that wanted to wrack her body, tightly gripping onto the fabric of the long, black dress she wore.

Her grandparents - on her mother's side - came up to her, both hooking their arms through her own and with their other one, tried to give her some semblance of comfort as, they too, looked down at their daughter's headstone. They didn't have to speak to let her know that they were there for her. Bailey knew that no matter what, they would be.

It made her slowly lose the last threads of her composure, feeling them fray into nothingness. She tried to keep it together, but unfortunately, she was losing miserably.

She closed her eyes then, wishing that she could - just once more - listen to her mother's voice as she excitedly spoke about something that interested her, to listen to her laugh to something that was either on the television, the book she was reading, or something that she had heard on the radio. Just one more time, Bailey thought, to be able to hug her mother and to tell her how much she loved her.

Now there were only her imagination, those thought fell upon deaf ears. Knowing that no matter how much she wished for it, it would not happen.

If only she could travel back in time and change the past.

She sighed heavily, shoulders slumping, feeling defeated.

Time passed, Bailey was uncertain as to how much, but she vaguely remembered those who had attended come up to her and convey their condolences and prayers as, one by one, dispersed from the cemetery. All that was left was only herself.

Kneeling, she traced her fingers gently over the engravings of the birds and vines that outlined the stone, and then to her mother's name.

"I love you, mom." Bailey whispered, voice shaking as was her hands as she then traced her fingers lightly over the quote that her mom had spoken so many times before:

Dreams do come true if you make them to be...