"No"

I was so used to the words that she'd say because it'd always remain the same.
"No." she'd say.
"Mom, would you like to play a game?"
"No." she'd say "I'm busy"
"Mom, do you want to ride bikes?"
"No." She'd say "I'm to tired"
The more I asked the more she'd reply and sometimes I didn't even get one.
But the older I got the less I asked and more it became her turn.
"Daughter?" She'd ask "Would you like to play a game?" As her soft old hands wrapped around a small box of cards, the same box I used to hold.
"No" I'd say "I'm busy"
"Daughter?" She'd ask "Do you want to garden with me?" As her old and wise smile looked over my face.
"No" I'd say "I'm to tired"
Then one day came where no more questions could be asked for the questions asked were not from her.
"Did you love her?" They ask as I nod wearing black.
"Yes." I'd say "I do"
"Do you miss her?" They ask as the casket lowers down
"Everyday" I'd reply. "Everyday.."