Falling Again (A BWWM Interracial Novel) by Tina Martin

Author:Tina Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, death, true love, husband and wife, making it work, relationship problems, reuniting
Publisher: Tina Martin

CHAPTER 17

While Stacey goes to her room to get settled, I have time to think alone in my room. I brought the picture of my mother from the mantle and as I set on the bed, I stare at it. At her. I miss my mother. I don’t talk about her much because it hurts to do so. From what I can remember of her, she was one of those good-souled mothers – the kind that kissed my cuts and scrapes and was there to bandage me up even if she told me to stop doing what it was that I was doing to get hurt in the first place.

I’m reminded of all the times she read to me. I used to think The Little Red Riding Hood was her favorite story because she loved reading it. And she would be animated when she read aloud, holding me close to her as we sat on the edge of the bed.

I miss smelling her food. She was an excellent cook. I can still smell the aroma of her homemade chocolate chip cookies, the cinnamon in her sweet potato pies and recall how the scent made our house feel like a home – like a safe haven. She was the perfect mom.

She died before I hit my teen years, but I imagined that once I crossed over to the know-it-all age of thirteen, my mom and I would’ve had problems just like the typical mother-teenager-daughter relationship, but since we never experienced that, I can truly say that my mother was perfect.

Even her relationship with my father was flawless. I’ve never seen them fight in front of me. I can’t recall not one single incident when they erupted into an argument. Not one.

My father really did love my mother. They were the kissy-kissy type of couple – the couple who tried to sneak kisses from each other when they thought I wasn’t looking.

My mother...

She cooked, cleaned, was always there for her family but when cancer decided to show its ugly head and take her away from us, we were no longer a family. We were broken and we never healed. And they say time heals all wounds...

That’s a lie, because how could a person truly heal from losing someone in death? How could a pre-teen girl heal from losing her mother? How could a husband carry on and continue to live his life when his wife, the woman he chose to spend the rest of his life loving, had succumbed to such a horrendous disease? Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Time extends the life of wounds.

I remember vividly one of our trip to mom’s grave. I remember it so well because I listened to my father cry in a way that a man dare not. Sometimes, I can still hear his whimpers and cries, his asking why, screaming it out into the open air. I remember him leaving roses on her grave on their anniversary, and I can recall the conversation I had with my father one day after we arrived home from the grave.

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