With the drawback on mothers health, I write to inform you of her impending demise and her torturous living. Mother have been the clothe that we have worn since father absence. The water we have drank and the smile that we have worn.

Mother was diagnosed with cancer and It was categorized to be terminal. We tried all that it was and that we could afford to pursue her treatment but it did not abate, rather it took a meaner form in her and made a caricature of mother bones.

We all watched daily in shock horror as mother left part by part, first she lost her hair, her scent and then her flesh. The mother we might see tomorrow may not be mother no more.

I sinned against you and mother by this act. Mother drummed to my ears soft pleas to not tell you about her state, but to assure you that all was well. She would always be in tears whenever she looked at your picture which she requested for while in the hospital. The one image she would never let go of even in her sleepy dreams.

I envied mother love for you. It was true and perfect. It was wonderful and glaring. You found for mother a heart to love and made her feel loved it return before she will bid us goodbye.

I wish mother knew about you and knew you felt the same. Mother only regret lies on her face like a visible black patch on a white wall. It speaks forever of hurt that she felt and that she still feels when she banished you from home.

She wouldn't admit but you were the only strength she could reconcile with even on her last breath.