Bed-times for me are precious. It is the time when I put my work away, dim the lights, and cuddle up with my 3-year son.
We laugh, tell stories, and get all cute. I treasure these moments.
Today was different. 'Why are you so sad today' he asked me. He had only today discovered a new word - 'sad', and I thought he was only trying to use it as much as possible like he always does with new words.
But yes, I was sad.
The entire day I was dodging the thoughts of it, hiding all Facebook posts about it, determined not to read the details yet the headline gave much away, and now as I relaxed for the day it all came back. Just the headline, still have not had the courage to read the article.
This time a mother. For the sake of some depraved man's sexual cravings, a little child lost his life. Each time I read about a rape story I feel a helpless anger.
This time, I feel rage. 'Why are you sad, mummy?' he asks again and I only tell him to go off to sleep for in him I see the little child's face.
I feel like going there and ripping that man's heart out of his body, stabbing him a thousand times, and then crying my heart out in the hope of calming this rage, yet I know it will hardly make any difference, for the child is not coming back nor is the woman's soul.
Each day I feel scared of the day my son goes out into this ugly world and meets men who for some reason have lost all sense of sanity, of humanity, and are so frustrated with life that they feel no remorse going down to any level.
I have no words to describe how I feel for a fellow mother who lost her child in the worst way possible and had to go through what she had to.
Praying that she finds peace someday somewhere somehow.
As for the men, I only hope they suffer more than this mother. There cannot be a worse punishment than that.
We laugh, tell stories, and get all cute. I treasure these moments.
Today was different. 'Why are you so sad today' he asked me. He had only today discovered a new word - 'sad', and I thought he was only trying to use it as much as possible like he always does with new words.
But yes, I was sad.
The entire day I was dodging the thoughts of it, hiding all Facebook posts about it, determined not to read the details yet the headline gave much away, and now as I relaxed for the day it all came back. Just the headline, still have not had the courage to read the article.
This time a mother. For the sake of some depraved man's sexual cravings, a little child lost his life. Each time I read about a rape story I feel a helpless anger.
This time, I feel rage. 'Why are you sad, mummy?' he asks again and I only tell him to go off to sleep for in him I see the little child's face.
I feel like going there and ripping that man's heart out of his body, stabbing him a thousand times, and then crying my heart out in the hope of calming this rage, yet I know it will hardly make any difference, for the child is not coming back nor is the woman's soul.
Each day I feel scared of the day my son goes out into this ugly world and meets men who for some reason have lost all sense of sanity, of humanity, and are so frustrated with life that they feel no remorse going down to any level.
I have no words to describe how I feel for a fellow mother who lost her child in the worst way possible and had to go through what she had to.
Praying that she finds peace someday somewhere somehow.
As for the men, I only hope they suffer more than this mother. There cannot be a worse punishment than that.
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