How dare you?
How dare you come after my child?
Take my heart. Take my soul. Take what’s left of my hopes and dreams.
Spit upon me for all that I have done wrong. Do NOT take my child.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no… I fell to the floor upon reading the email where my son told me of his illness.
I SCREAMED, the cat hid, the dogs ran, I am surprised the neighbors didn’t come to the house. I wailed. I did not know what “wailing” meant until today.
No, no, no, no, no… not my child.
I do not want to outlive my children.
With all that is happening in the world, what right have I to ask anything. I believe I have a right because my son is good. His 2 & 4 year old children need a good father. Do not make his wife a widow.
I am lost within my beliefs that there is such a thing as praying for good. The balance between right and wrong. I wonder. Is there really a higher power who cares? Are we just pawns?
My child’s life isn’t going to change the world. Will my faith? Will yours? Is there really a balance?
I don’t know. I don’t care. I am the mother. Balance doesn’t deserve my son as a trinket.
“Show me you are real, show me a cardinal…” A fuc***g blue jay came to my water bowl.
The night grew longer. “Show me you hear me, send me an owl.” Owls are not a big deal.
No owls. No birds. No fuck*n’ bats.
I prayed relentlessly for the son that went to war. I prayed, knowing that he went to war in fit shape. The battle was yet to begin. I felt that I, my prayers had a head start.
Now, now, I am informed of a battle with another son. A battle which is half won before I even knew there was a battle.
Pancreatic cancer which has spread to the liver.