Posted: Aug 10, 08 5:02pm

(Note): I would like constructive criticism or comments.

It all happened, one night when I was six-

years-old. I ran to my parents bedroom, all excited, to tell them goodnight, before going to bed. What I saw stopped me dead in my tracks. I stood in the doorway, as if I was in a trance. Staring at the scary scene before me, made my body trembled with fear. I felt as if

I wanted to cry, but I didn't know why. I started to say something, to my mother

when suddenly, I heard a loud slamming of a car door, on the outside that startled me for

a moment. Making me forget for a brief second, that I was thinking about

the scene in my parents bedroom. But I quickly gathered my thoughts. I started concentrating on the scene, again in front of me.

It was so hard trying to divert my attention

from the scene, that I didn't understand. I was

feeling afraid and sad at the same time. I tried

to move my feet, but they felt so heavy. I started to look down at my feet, when I heard this low moan coming from the bed. My small body started trembling with fear. But still I couldn't move.

I stood there looking around in the bedroom.

There was a dimmly lit kerosene lamp, in a corner sitting on top of an old time phonograph player. Then I looked back toward the bed, wondering why my mother was moaning? Being a child, I couldn't comprehend what was going on. So I stared at my mother, being unaware that my father

was close by.

My mother was lying there on her bed moaning softly. She had on a brown flowery gown. There were large beads of sweat on her forehead as she continued moaning. She seemed to be unaware of me standing in the doorway. I wanted to go to her. But my feet wouldn't let me. Then I heard crying coming from under her bed. I leaned forward, a little so I could see, who was crying. Behold! It was my father crying. But he wasn't doing anything to help my mother. I wanted to scream at him, to get up and help her! But no words came out. I tried again, but I still couldn't get the words out.

My father just laid there on the cold, bare floor crying. I tried to move, but I seemed to be hypnotized. Then all of a sudden, I was able to move my feet, but I didn't go to my mother.

I was afraid. I ran to my bedroom. I decided that I would go and see her in the morning.

I was only six-years-old. I had no way of knowing what was happening with my mother.....and why my father was under her bed crying. My little mind was very confused.

After some tossing and turning, I finally fell

asleep.

When I got up the following morning, I went straight to my mother's bedroom. I looked on the bed, but she wasn't there. I only saw the brown flowery gown she had on the night before, lying on the bed, where she once laid her head. Now, I was puzzled. I looked all around the room, but I couldn't find her. Sadly, I went back to my room, thinking that maybe my father would know where she is. I

decided to go and look for my father, but I couldn't find him, either. Now, I didn't know what to do. I asked myself, "Where is my mother?' As my eyes filled with tears. I believed I fell asleep, after that. When I woke up, my father was home.

I got up and went to my father, and asked him

about my mother. The only thing he said, "She went to heaven." I just looked at him, trying to understand. But I really didn't.

So I just went outside to play. My father never told me the whole story about my mother. I grew up still not knowing, what happened to my mother on that fateful night. I was much older when I found out what really happened to my mother. I found out that my mother died from complications, after giving birth to my baby brother, who was named, Thomas.

I realized later that my father was a weak man.

But I knew that he loved us, after what he did for us. My three brothers and I were now living with my father's mother and sister. His mother loved us, but she was bedridden. She

couldn't take care of us. His sister tried, but she was mean to us. His mother knew this. But

what could she do? Nothing! Somehow, my father found out about it. That was when he made up his mind to find homes for us, with

people he knew. Because he couldn't take care of us. So he did the next best thing.

I didn't respect my father that much, but I knew he loved us. I will always thank him for doing the right thing. He placed us in good homes with good people, who later adopted us.

~To Be Continued~