My dear, dear Son,
 I trust that you are well today. Jose, I love you and always have. Even through the bad years, I have loved you.  I cried tears of love over you, my son. 
 

Quiet sobs shook Maria.  She knew her days were few.  The doctors said her cancer would make her bedridden within a week or two and then take her.  Maria wanted to let her son, Jose, know that she would always love him.  She had so much to say; yet she did not know exactly what to say.  Maria sat at the kitchen table, head in her hands.  Paper and pen lay upon the scuffed surface.  She thought about their lives, hers and Jose’s.  Her thoughts walked through her memories; they were all so clear, like watching a movie.  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rehashed her son’s drug use and his abuse, both physical and verbal.  She had lost control; she had lost his love—she had lost him.

# “Mrs. Gonzalez?”“Yes?” “This is Captain Wright with the police department.  Ma’am is your son, Jose?”“Yes, Sir, he is.” “I’m afraid I have some bad news…”Maria remembered the pause and how a thousand things crossed her mind.  “…ma‘am, we had a big drug bust this evening.  And we found Jose passed out on the floor.”Several years later, Maria could still recall how her heart stopped and her knees gave out.“Mrs. Gonzalez, Jose was taken to St. Mary’s Hospital.”#  Jose had spent a month in ICU.  The doctors said the drugs had damaged his brain.  He would never be the same again.  Upon his release from the hospital, she took Jose back home to care for him.  Some days were good when they could talk of happy times to come.  Other days he threw things around the house in a blind rage while Maria cowered in her bedroom, shaking.  As the months passed, her son’s good days became fewer and fewer.   With a heavy, grieving heart, Maria enlisted her son into a psych ward. 

My sorrow runs so deep when I come and see you in your rages.  How I long to cradle you in my arms and tell you that all will be well.  But all I can do is watch you throw your body against the padded walls. 
 But oh, how my heart soars when your mind is clear and you greet me with your broad smile.  Oh, what wonderful visits those are!  We sit and talk of the few good days we once had. 
 Slowly Maria lifted her head and looked around her.  She had sacrificed all for her son.  Maria’s dreams of a big, beautiful home never became a reality.  She had cancelled her phone, barely heated the two-room apartment, and sold her car.  All to pay for Jose’s accumulating bills.  She brushed the tears away and reached again for the blurred pen.  Her hands quivered as she wrote.I tell you repeatedly that I love you; with teary eyes you tell me the same.  Oh, those precious, precious words. They are like aloe upon the scars of pain that overlay my heart. 
 Oh, my dear Jose, my heart grieves.  I feel that your being here is my fault.  I’m so sorry that I failed you, my son.  My days are few for my cancer will soon take me, yet you’ll live on.  Please, oh please, don’t ever forget your mother’s love. 
 With the deepest love a mother can bestow,
Mom
 Feeling weak from anguish and sorrow, Maria laid the pen down and rested her head on the table.  A few minutes later, she rose from the table and went for an envelope and her small pile of quarters.  She tenderly placed the letter into her purse.  After dropping the quarters into her pocket, she painfully made her way down the stairs.  Cautiously, agonizingly, she walked the block and a half to the bus stop.

As the bus bumped along, Maria grieved to think this might be her last trip.  Her thoughts tracked back to the past.  She recalled the day she knew she was expecting; expecting with no ring on her finger.  Maria thought about the hard hours at the meat factory to provide for her son. Her eyes misted as she remembered the long hours away from the only special thing in her life.  Someone pushing by her brought her back to the present.  She wished she could have seen Jose more often, but she struggled to afford the weekly trip. Deep down, though, she knew she would run out of time before she ran out of pinched quarters.  She reached up and pressed the yellow strip to signal for her stop.  Pangs shot through her body as she descended the bus steps and walked the block to the psych ward. Her body weak from chemo, Maria struggled to open the heavy door.  After a nonchalant greeting from the receptionist, Maria was told Jose was in the waiting room.  Her heart soared.  Maria entered the room expecting Jose’s broad smile.  However, she arrived just in time to see the beginning stages of rage grip her son.  Uniformed people dragged him to a padded room.  With a sinking heart, she walked to the viewing window.  Jose glanced at her and she blew him a kiss.  Then he was lost to her and the world.  Maria’s world fell upon her as tears streaked down her cheeks.  Though she breathed, she felt dead; with slumped shoulders and lowered head, Maria turned.  Scuffing her feet along the floor, she made her way to the receptionist’s desk.  Maria’s vision was blurred and her hand shook as she signed the letter into Jose’s possession.  Her spirit drained, Maria turned to leave—never more to return. 

**Illustration by W. Joy Robelen**Illustration and Story first appeared in Haruah Magazine March 15, 2007