Together We Cry – By Jan Campana
In the back of the room, covered in artificial light, my eyes squeeze tight like a fist. This isn’t the first instance I have waited too late. My mind races through the long list as if my whole life depends on this moment. After forced repentance, I pledge to be compassionate, humble, even giving, if only my prayer would be answered.
Apprehensively, a staunch nurse brings me the tiny pink bundle. Through strained blurry eyes, she glows magically, the essence of my dearly departed wife. The understanding staff gives us an hour alone. I hesitant, for this is the first and last time the baby will ever see her mother; the knowledge is straining my already crushed soul. Sadly, the family moment cannot comfort the wails of my hungry daughter or ease my crippled heart. Together we cry.