A mother’s memories of grief

Greetings, and welcome to today’s Author News 27 February 2021

It was as if it happened yesterday. Even so many years later, memories pop up. The day you died; my heart bled.
A mother’s memories of grief

A psychedelic DNA trip!

‘Why not?’ My head was like I was on a psychedelic trip. I must see, and I want to touch him.

‘DNA! We need DNA.’

Has anything criminal happened? Goes through my head.

The man disappears. He closes the door in silence.

Do not touch! The guy had told me.
  • It has laid a distance between you and me.
  • I’m crying.
  • I gasp for breath.
  • My heart stops for a moment.
  • I miss you so much.
  • I touch your chilly hand.
  • Caresses your cold cheek.

I give you a finger kiss on the forehead and lay back the cloth over your icy pale face. Then I cry while I sit with you for a quiet moment.

  • Wake up! 
  • It’s late! 
  • Open your eyes!

  Don’t leave me in such a devastated mess.

He’s free!

Seven days after they freed you. Now we decorate your white coffin.

  • Flowers.
  • Red Roses.
  • A letter.
  • A teddy bear. 
  • A cross. 
  • We pray. 
  • Crying. 
  • Listening to the priest.

I notice you are lying still on the table after a stormy night in despair.

I enter the most unrealistic door opening in front of me to the chapel. There is a smell of death. Silence. The room is peaceful. Darkness. Only the candles are burning. Everything is half dark, cold and gloomy.

I look at the white cloth over your beautiful face.

‘May I look at him under the cloth?’

‘No! Do not touch him,’ the man said.

DNA – Psychedelic trip

The man disappears. He closes the door in silence. 

  • Finally, alone in the room.
  • There’s a chair next to you.

With horror, I stare at the white cloth. I lift it. I must see if it’s you. I’m looking at your face.

I get the urge to kiss you on the forehead.

  • Kiss you on your cheek.
  • Hold your hand.
  • Give you a hug.
  • Your sister sits waiting outside. 
  • She can’t. 
  • It broke her.
  • You brother’s don’t understand. 
  • So, I say farewell to you from your sister and brother’s.
  • I wish you’re only at sleep like when you were a little boy, when I anxiously watched over your tiny fragile body. In desperate longing, I wait for you to wake up again.
A mother with her deceased son.

The days of grief never disappear. 

A memorial is being planned. Nobody says anything. The week goes by until I get the message. 

Your mom says a few words. We sing songs for you in church. Play a lovely tune for you. 

Enigma; Rivers of Believe. 

You love Enigma. 

You are forever gone. 

Your lovely little girl is watching, and your baby is sleeping. Your sister is crying, and your brothers are in despair. And I am crying desperately before we finally lay you to rest on God’s created green earth.

  • You take the truth with you. 
  • What happened? 
  • Take the easy steps up to the Gateway of Heaven.
  • Rest in peace among all the other millions of Angels.
  • Yet I do not know what the truth is. 
  • Good-bye, my love.
  • I love you so much.

Nevertheless, you are forever gone. 

Author: M. L. Stark

My name is M. L. Stark, and I wrote the “Burning Desire - The Psychopath and the Girl in Black Prada Shoes” series based on experiences from my personal life. BURNING DESIRE, and BURNING DESIRE FADES knowing I’ve achieved the impossible; to write books about being a victim who survived the cruelty of abuse. Ending with one of Bob Marley’s quote: “The biggest coward is a man who awakens a woman’s love without the intention of loving her.” You can follow me on Facebook or Twitter.

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