The Effect

mothers grief

Getting off the bus and heading for home, she was tired her feet ached but she was determined not to moan. This was important , it had to be done she needed to put her whole being into saving her youngest son!

Pushing the front door shut behind her putting the bags down on the kitchen floor she looked into the living room but there was no one there. No television no shoot’em’up games  standing in the hallway she called out both boys names.

OH! well, she put the kettle on and maybe she’d ring around she had both their mobile numbers but they did not always want to be found. The doorbell rings , damn she had only just sat down she, walking toward the door  the phone begins to sing.

There it is the sight every mother dreads , a policeman and a policewoman , OH! god she thinks someone must be dead.

The hospital was noisy  but she didn’t hear a sound her lungs were filling up as she were about to drown. She had been waiting for an age now ,would no one take her in. She was feeling really sick now and and felt like things were crawling on her skin.

It was so cold in there and he only had a sheet on . God he looked so pale but she supposed that was what you would look like when all your blood was gone.

Lost Boys

She woke up with the headache she had had since that day the shock of the police visit and what they had to say. She she knew she had to get up she knew she must  today, it was the funeral and that would not go away.

Things had been different he elder boy had staid home he seemed to want to help his mother and not leave her on her own. She dare not hope he had changed but she was glad that he was there. She slowly put her face on and then she brushed her hair.

His friends were at the church like they had been that day , he was not not with them. Would this pain ever go away. The priest seemed glad to see her and he offer his support, she felt close to this  man who was with her boy when for his life he fought.

His favourite track finished and the last notes drifted away she stood up and looked at everyone and said she had something to say.

She knew that there was no work and that there was not much hope but joining gangs and using guns and knives was not the way to cope. Please listen she pleaded you are slipping away too many lives are wasted too many die this way. Something must be done and it must be soon  we are loosing a generation it might be two is something is not done soon. How many more mothers have to suffer like I have  we really need to sort this out……… her voice trailed off to silence as she repeated, how many more mothers like me.

6 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Vampire Weather
    Oct 18, 2011 @ 21:01:22

    The saga continues… as you explore this concept from many angles I feel your deep passion and I feel as if I am reading a biography of some very important account. Grippingly well done

    Reply

  2. willowdot21
    Oct 18, 2011 @ 21:07:26

    I do feel this with such a passion it brakes my heart so many young men turned bad for the want of a job, for the want of a chance . Just for the lack of hope, where is the hope. We must do something , so I write this story. Thank you for reading it.

    Reply

  3. penpusherpen
    Oct 19, 2011 @ 10:16:18

    You describe the sorrow so well, sad and so, so true today, Willow, so many pulls and dangers for the young, to join gangs, as they need the feeling of total togetherness they get with a group of similar souls. Your poem shows the Mothers side, the loving side and surely something could be set up by Governments to use the creativity and mold the young instead of leaving them with a ‘no hope, no future ‘ ethic.. xPenx

    Reply

    • willowdot21
      Oct 19, 2011 @ 18:16:59

      Thank you Pen, I feel so deeply about this we need to help these boys and girls they do need direction. Not only are they lost themselves just imagine what their children would be like, another lost generation we need to help. xxxx

      Reply

  4. zumpoems
    Oct 19, 2011 @ 13:56:25

    These cause and effect entries are very harsh reality and you handle this very well. Your writing just keeps improving. It’s a great strength to reach deep down, connect with ones feelings and put it in writing. Few can do this. Keep up the high level of productivity. I think writing is what you are meant to do — it is meant to be what you have to contribute to this world.

    Reply

  5. willowdot21
    Oct 19, 2011 @ 18:20:44

    Thank you so much, I am grateful for your really kind words. As I have said over and over this a subject I feel passionately about , we are loosing our future! x

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Follow me on Twitter

Follow Us

Follow Us

Follow Us

Follow Us

Therapy Bits

Living life with dissociative identity disorder and complex ptsd

LADY LEWIS

...what Lady A Lewis thinks about it...

No Facilities

Random thoughts, life lessons, hopes and dreams

pensitivity101

An onion has many layers. So have I!

theindieshe

The independent she who loves life

365 And Counting

there's plenty more where the first year came from

Ruth Blogs Here

Or not, depending on my mood

Mina's Articles

Writing about all articles that might represent our life such Poetry, Lifestyle, Employment, Education and Investment

A Prolific Potpourri...

The Artistic Endeavors and Musings of Matt Snyder

France & Vincent

Writing Magic, Myth and Mystery

Sun in Gemini

SteveTanham - writing, mysticism, photography, poetry, friends

But I Smile Anyway...

Musings and memories, words and wisdom... of a working family woman

New2Writing

KL CALEY

Hot Dogs and Marmalade

Salty like hot dogs (and tears). Sweet like marmalade (and life).

Two on a Rant

Rants, humor, sarcasm, and a haiku-like substance? It's hard to know what's going to come out of our minds next.

Ivor.Plumber/Poet

An Old Plumber, An Ex-Carer, An Amateur Poet, Words From The Heart

Trent's World (the Blog)

Random Ramblings and Reviews from Trent P. McDonald

Shelley Wilson Author

Multi-Genre Author of YA Fantasy and Non-Fiction Self-Help

Marsha Ingrao - Always Write

Having fun blogging with friends

Caramel

Learner at Love

awifemyverse.wordpress.com/

A Wife, My Verse, and Every Little Thing

Mr. Ohh!'s Sideways View

For those of you who aren't me...and I've noticed a surprisingly large number of people who aren't.

The Small Dog

Life from the Tail End

USUAL MUTTWITS

DOG TAILS by ZoZo and Jools

kimbladeswriting

poetry and short stories

Ben Naga

Gifts from the Musey Lady and Me. "Laissez-moi vous raconter ma vraie histoire."

About the Jez of It

Poetry, stories and strange odds and ends from the desk of a writer

The Sound of One Hand Typing

Music, Musings, Memoir, and Madness

"LIFE" ( You like it, I love it! )

"LOVE"-Keeping it real, and keeping it simple!

Our Eyes Open

Come along on an adventure with us!

Diary of a Dublin Housewife

Diary of a Dublin Housewife

J-Dubs Grin and Bear It

As Always, More to Come

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

Blog magazine for lovers of health, food, books, music, humour and life in general

Colline's Blog

a potpourri of thoughts and experiences

lynz real cooking

lynz real life

%d bloggers like this: