My Little Boy
As the casket lowered, one last tear fell from my eye. He was gone. My little Eric was gone. It was July, the sky was dark and the rain continued to fall. We all gathered under the tent, each person saying their last goodbye. The pastor said one last prayer, then we all headed back to the cars. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was supposed to have more years with him. I was supposed to see him go up another grade every year, see him graduate from high school, then college. Watch as his bride comes down the isle. Visit my grandchildren. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, a mother should never outlive her child. It had only happened four days ago. Eric and his father were outside, Eric playing with basketball while his father washed the cars. I was in the house doing the dishes. Eric threw the ball into the net, but was able to catch it. The ball soon headed toward the road, Eric on its trail. I had just set the last plate down when I look out the window, seeing Eric in the street. by the time I ran to the door to tell him to get out of the street, it was too late. The driver hadn’t been paying much attention, they were on their phone. They didn’t even see him coming. I run as fast as I could to my little boy, praying to God he was still breathing. My husband was by my side, calling 911. The driver, a helpless teenager, was paralyzed with fear. The ambulance came shortly, taking him away. My husband and I fallow close behind in our car. We get to the hospital only to wait for what seems like forever. The doctor comes out, his head hanging low. The next couple of minutes were a blur. I remember him saying that they did everything they could, but he was too badly injured. From that moment I became empty. Its been hell since that day. I’ve heard nothing but “I’m sorry for your loss”. Each time I hear those words, its just another painful reminder. My son was taken too soon, due to someone not paying attention to driving like they should have been. He was only seven. I hope no other mothers go through this type of pain, for it is a pain I don’t think I will ever recover from.