Cry Of A Mother

When a life is taking so many emotions are brought about, even if the relationship aren't deeply rooted. At some point the heart has sympathy and giving the opportunity the sternest heart shows compassion.

Cries of a grieving mother echoes the streets. Comfort is all around her but no one can truly feel her pain. Images of her one and only child flashes through her mind as if someone's rapidly turning pages in a book. Those images become memories, she balls her eyes out as she looks at her son's lifeless corpse. Chaos fills the community as an unarmed black teen has been gunned down. Sirens flare screaming through the night, the neighborhood is decorated with caution tape...making things that much harder for a mother to embrace her loss. What seems like forever to her was just another daily routine for authorities, then just like that life goes back to it's regularly scheduled program.

The following morning was everything but conventional for Mrs. Porter. A restless night is written all over her face. Her demeanor shows she has little to no energy, drained from weeping. Her body is slumped over at the kitchen table, she is sheltered from the world ignoring any possible condolence...Then she sobs out the words..."My heart is heavy, they killed my baby. I ask for some relief, some justice. I always"... then the words she utters comes to a halting stop.

A beam of light gleamed so bright that she had no choice but to open her eyes. The light aluminates the the room, then a figure appears. It is apparent that what she sees is not of this world. The presence is so undeniable, Mrs. Porter tries to position herself but quickly descends to her knees. Just as fast as the figure came...it went. The emotions are overwhelming; her new reality has set in. She sees what looks to be her sons face. The is presence is so heavy and she can't believe what was among her. With no hesitation her limbs carry her to her sons room. Eager to clasp onto any material remembrance, in a brisk manner she rushes to her first born room. Immediately rummaging through his drawer, at once finding a little black book. The front cover titled "I hope this finds you". Without wasting a second she skims the notepad. What was meant for her eyes to see has found her, discovering a page that states...

"Mom I love you, you've gave me so much. You are the reason for my existence, I owe you more than words can describe. I hate seeing you struggle, I had to take matters into my own hands. Those news stories we would see about a spree of robberies? That was me ma. For the longest I never how to break the news to you, but I made a pact to myself that I would tell you sooner than later. Periodically I put money aside as a contribution. If you look under my bed their is a shoebox with something in it for you. Mom I love you and I'm sorry".

The torn mother bolted to where the notepad instructed. As promised their was a shoebox under the abandoned bed. She grabs the box and opened it finding a lump some of money. Tears floods her eyes gazing onto what she just found. Through teary eyes and unstable hands she is holding approximately twenty-thousand dollars wrapped in a money band. Her heart is in a frantic state, bewildered and astonished she taking away by her son's attempt.

Life is priceless, no amount of money can account for it's value. Yet some seem to be convinced that money can suffice anything. The incommunicable feeling of a love one's absence impacts forever. I guess the right amount of compensation can make mourner neglect any demise.