Motherless Children

A 30-year-old woman died of breast cancer leaving her three small children behind. Her elderly mother is raising her kids. It’s a family affair. Of course, death–tears-overwhelming grief.  Matt, a kind-hearted soul, clicked with me from the onset of our meeting. My soul felt his kindness.  I accepted him as a friend I would get to know.
I was new around the place.  Matt had the scoop.  He whirled around in his chair.  Tapped me.  He said,”Don’t you feel sorry for the motherless children?”

I didn’t respond. My mind flashed from scene to scene sickening me.  I starred in a show–main character too. Didn’t go to Hollywood.  I was in the hood. 

“Don’t you feel sorry for motherless kids?” He waited for my response with his soft brown misty eyes. And he waited.  I really didn’t want to respond. He was really a kind fella. 

So I said, “No, I’m so happy those children have their family to help them. Their grandmother and their aunts. That’s the way it is supposed to be.”

“So you don’t feel sorry for motherless kids?”

No.”

His faced confused. Peeping at me, he continued to eat. With misty eyes, he nearly choked.

“Matt, my heart goes out to the person who helps the kids. It’s not about the kids to me. My heart goes out to the babysitter or caregiver? They are often used then thrown out like an old shoe. Family is important.  The children are with their family. No use in adding a bleeding heart. Ingrates!”

Matt stared. “I don’t believe you are heartless.”

“Whatever.”

“My wife hates it when I say whatever.”

“Cause you don’t care.”

“Right.”

“Whatever.”

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