|
|
|
|
|
Forum
-> Hobbies, Crafts, and Collections
-> The Imamother Writing Club
amother
OP
|
Mon, Aug 22 2022, 1:42 pm
I took my daughter to Claire's today, to get her ears pierced.
The woman working there had short curly hair and a sweet smile.
We chatted about kids, and ears, and piercings, and allergies.
And then she mentioned, almost as an aside, that her son passed away last week.
"That's him, on my tee shirt," she told me.
A young man, prime of his life, smiled back at me in a stylized black and white image.
He wore angel wings and a football jersey, #47.
"He was supposed to have a baby shower for his first child," she said. "On Sunday.
"But on Saturday I got the call that he was killed in an accident."
They retired his jersey number, and planned an athletic scholarship in his memory.
"I don't know why I'm at work," she said.
"Sometimes I just go to the back room and find myself bawling."
What could I say to her? Such unimaginable pain.
She shouldn't be back at work, though she did her job almost cheerfully.
She complimented my daughter and admired my toddler.
She patiently explained the care instructions and made sure the piercings were even.
I didn't cry, not in the store, not until I was safely at home.
For a mother who had to bury a son,
And for a culture that has so little respect for grief.
| |
|
Back to top |
6
2
|
amother
Yarrow
|
Mon, Aug 22 2022, 1:51 pm
|
Back to top |
0
0
|
|
Imamother may earn commission when you use our links to make a purchase.
© 2024 Imamother.com - All rights reserved
| |
|
|
|
|
|