The story so far:
She shook as they walked to the car, his arms around her waste feeling the intensity of her emotions, her breath staggering with every step. The black Lincoln waited, a symbol of despair and longing for the nightmare to end. She took one last look at the coffin slowly moving closer into the earth, the mound of dirt restlessly hovering over the six foot hole. That’s my baby in there, she thought, my little boy.
She remembered the day he was born, the rain storm outside her hospital room window, his hesitance to leave his cushy surroundings. She laid in the hospital bed for hours, anticipating his long awaited arrival, the months of curiosity upon her. Would he have Michael’s eyes, the fierce green color that took her breath away? Would he have her lips, small and pouty? She still remembers the first time he looked at her, snug in her arms as if he felt at home there.
“I will never hold him again,” she whispered.
“Come darling, get inside the car,” Michael said. She couldn’t move. She pictured Andrew as a teenager, the features of his father finally surfacing as he becomes a man. She pictured his graduation day, his wedding day, the day he becomes a father. She thought about all the moments he will never have, all the precious joys life can bring that he will never get to experience.
She wiped the tear sliding down her face as she watched her son lay to rest in his new home.