She was laying in bed. It was cold and she felt as if the hand of a small child was touching hers. It felt like her daughter, as a child was telling her in a terse way: “I love you! Now go on”
No mom, no sweetness. She then remembered the tears she left her daughter shed growing up. What for? Tears were supposed to teach one a lesson. They make one stronger for adulthood. Had she known her daughter would die so young, she would prevent every tear. Not a single one would ever roll down her sweet face because there would be no need for lessons.
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