A little boy went running down the halls toward his parent’s room, his father trailing behind him. He burst through the door and found his mother crying in a fetal position on the bed. The boy’s father swept him into his arms and closed the door before carrying the child with him to the bench swing on the back patio. She didn’t like crying in front of people, and today— she needed to cry.
“Why is mommy crying?” the boy asked, concerned.
“Because she is sad,” his father replied.
“Why is she sad?” the boy continued.
“Because she misses grandpa, son,” he explained.
The boy thought for a moment, “cause she can’t see him any more?”
“Because she misses grandpa, son,” he explained.
The boy thought for a moment, “cause she can’t see him any more?”
“That’s right.”
He scrunched his face and looked down for a moment before he looked back up at his father and asked,
“How long will it hurt?”
The man took a long draw of breath, looking up at the stars. Then, he turned toward the boy and answered,
“always, always.”
...continue reading this post on my new blog.
He scrunched his face and looked down for a moment before he looked back up at his father and asked,
“How long will it hurt?”
The man took a long draw of breath, looking up at the stars. Then, he turned toward the boy and answered,
“always, always.”
...continue reading this post on my new blog.
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