Tears Of A Mother ✍💧
💋❤ Jessica Duru ✍❣💋
He asked, “Mom, why was I made to stay this way?”
His mother Ayana looked at him, bringing him close, so that his head rested on her bosom. “We made a terrible mistake. Your father and I,” she fought back the tears wanting to drop, and said, “We didn’t mean for it to go like this,“ she sighed. “We regret dearly for making you suffer.”
Her son pulled away. “Regret?” he asked, “Why are you apologizing, mother? It’s not your fault.”
Ayana sniffed, remembering the day she had met her dearest Tristan.
“You may kiss your bride—” Ayana remembered everything as tear drops from her eyes. She had seen her love story to be a happily ever after tale. Right from when she was in kindergarten, she had always pictured that and wished for her prince charming to come take her with him. She and Tristan had met in their second year, back when she was in U of A. They had become friends, and from there began catching feelings. Tristan had asked her out, thereafter, and as God would have it, they were joined in holy matrimony in the later years. Their joy knew no bounds. Tristan was partly Canadian, and Ayana was an African. Tristan didn’t mind despite his mum’s disapproval—and all other things that came with it, his love for Aya was so strong. Even when when they had known they weren’t compatible, they had still gone on with the wedding plans. Now their son was paying the price.
Every time he fell sick. Aya was just by his side, regretting all the times she had remained with Tristan.
Tristan was away on a business trip. He had left unannounced, but this didn’t worry Ayana as she knew her husband would return.
Ayana was left to care for their only child. Left in a world where crisis was a part of his life, he’d pass through a lot of pains while his mother watched with a broken heart; this was unbearable and an eye sore. Ayana couldn’t watch her son in such a state. She couldn’t stand seeing him suffer. The poor woman would cry all day—all night, wishing he had never came into this world—a world of suffering. He was the only one she had. Each time she remembered this, she would remember that doctor’s words; “The infection has spread, I’m sorry, ma’am. Your womb has to be removed.” His voice hit so hard. The thought of never been able to give her husband kids hurt her most—this was one reason she couldn’t bear losing her son Amih. She loved him so.
“Amih, please don’t leave mommy, okay? She loves you very much,” her tears designed to flow did their jobs.
Amih had been rushed to the hospital that day. His crisis couldn’t be contained; Aya could take no risk. Her son was going to die, this went on in her mind. She remembered the time her husband would comfort her.
“M-mom, where is dad? Why isn’t he here?” Amih’s sick voice dragged Ayana slowly out of thoughts. He noticed the tears that were already leaving her eyes. Has she been crying?
Ayana took notice of his expression. “Oh, son,” she faked a smile and looked at him. “How are you feeling, my child?” she asked, trying to avert his mind. “Does it hurt?”
Amih pointed at his head and gave a soft laugh. “Only there.”
Ayana could see her child was only trying to make her worry less. “Oh, son.” Ayana couldn’t help bursting into tears. “This is all my fault, she said—it’s all my fault.” she clung dearly to him.
Those words rang in her heart.