He runs to her side, eagerly jumping up on the bed. She smiles down on him, his childish face aglow, his mousy brown hair rumpled. She winces, the effort of a smile is too much for her. He frowns, a puzzled crease appearing between his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.
“Ah, sweetie,” she answers, grabbing his hand. “Mommy’s not going to be here much longer.” Her voice cracks and a tear trickles down.
“You’re going to get out of bed soon?” He questions excitedly. “But that’s a good thing. Why are you crying?” He reaches out his small finger and wipes away her tear.
The mother grips his hand harder and kisses it.
“I’m going far away,” she tells him, gazing into his perfect blue eyes, not able to bear the thought of losing him.
“Can I come with you? I wanna come with you!” the boy cries out.
“This is a long journey I must make alone,” She replies, playing with a curl of his hair.
“But you’ll get lonely,” he stares at her with his puppy eyes. “And I’ll miss you.”
It is too much for her. She buries her head in her hands and sobs. Carefully the little boy strokes her hair, wondering why she is crying. She pulls him in, weeping into his shirt. The strain of it is too much for her frail body, however, and she falls back on the pillow, exhausted.
“I love you,” she whispers to him.
When she doesn’t move, he tugs on her hand. “Can we go out and play before you leave?” he begs. There is no response. He tugs harder.
“Mommy? Mommy, wake up!” Now he is shaking her, pleading with her to get up.
“Why won’t you wake up?” he cries, laying his head on her chest.
“Please wake up,” he chokes, “I love you too.”