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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1828195
For those who have lost a parent and know the pain.
A Single Teardrop
by: Tina Jones

Moma had been battling
cancer for so long.
She fought hard,
I never knew she was so strong.

She layed on a hospital
bed in the livingroom.
My father took such good care of her,
though often filled with gloom.

My sister lived there
with mom and dad.
She tried to take care of them,
it drained what strength she had.

I was married with a
life of my own.
But my life took second place
as the struggle raged on.

One day sitting with my husbands parents,
having a nice long talk.
The phone rang, it was for me.
What was said sent me into shock.

Moma was in a coma now,
dad had been trying to reach me all day.
She wasn't expected to make it to the next
weekend I should get home right away.

An hour later I walked into my mom and dad's home
filled with family in tears.
I turned to the right to see moma,
my heart gripped in fear.

My father came to me and
held me ever so tight.
He told me to go to her and tell her
I love her, say my good-bye.

He added that I needed to know
moma could hear every word we say.
I had to tell her that I understood
and everything was okay.

I closed my eyes when daddy walked away
and silently I began to pray.
Please God don't take my moma,
I'm offering myself in her place.

I sat down next to moma, tears streaming
down my cheeks and took her hand in mine.
Lord forgive me but I did what I thought to be right,
I began to lie...

"Moma," I said, "we're doing so good.
He got a new job, just found out today.
We're going to move closer to you and dad
so we won't be so far away."

I told moma how much I loved her
and that it was okay to go into the light.
But my heart insisted I beg her to stay,
even if for just another night.

As my lips trembled and tears
fell like rain,
I bent down to kiss moma's hand
my body shaking from sheer pain.

When I looked up from moma's hand
I saw something that made my heart stop.
Rolling down moma's cheek and all alone
was a single teardrop.

At six the next morning my moma was gone.

I still talk to moma to this day
but what will always tears my heart apart,
Is the memory of
A single teardrop.
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