<i><span style="font-family:font1522365474"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(64, 64, 64)"><b>"I had not known before</b><br/>
<b>	Forever was so long a word.</b><br/>
<b>The slow stroke of the clock of time</b><br/>
<b>	I had not heard.</b><br/>
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<b>‘Tis hard to learn so late;</b><br/>
<b>	It seems no sad heart really learns,</b><br/>
<b>But hopes and trusts and doubts and fears,</b><br/>
<b>	And bleeds and burns.</b><br/>
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<b>The night is not all dark,</b><br/>
<b>	Nor is the day all it seems,</b><br/>
<b>But each may bring me this relief—</b></span></span></i><br/><span style="font-family:font1522365474"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(64, 64, 64)"><b><i>	My dreams and dreams.</i></b><br/>
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<b><i>I had not known before</i></b></span></span><br/><i><span style="font-family:font1522365474"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(64, 64, 64)"><b>	That Never was so sad a word,</b><br/>
<b>So wrap me in forgetfulness—</b><br/>
<b>	 I have not heard."</b><br/>
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<b>~ Forever, by Paul Laurence Dunbar</b></span></span></i><br/><br/><br/>This was the end: All that there was to be and forever done. That is what the preacher had said before lowering a body six feet below. In the dark and dank, where the shell of the unloving would no longer worry but wither in its stead. A sad affair for the mother of three children: One who had passed on too soon, and two daughters to whom she gave her life. Of those daughters the eldest was burdened to a promise. But at this juncture only a phantom womb ached at the sight of those who had survived her with hands wrung in ceremony and eyes glassy in the gossamer of their mourning.<br/><br/>Would she have reached out could she? Rise from the grave to hold her daughters once more. Perhaps but the spirit had no voice in the land of the living. Instead they languished unable to release their earthly coil. Alas this one knew impermanence of this moment, and merely braved a strong face upon the winds where her dreams once danced.<br/><br/><b>“Would you have chosen differently in life?” </b>A hardened yet not hollow voice asked.<br/><br/>What a peculiar question to ask the dead but the weary moment envisioned in the illusion of youth long passed understood. She did not need to ask the man stood beside her what he meant. Dressed in the elegance of a black suit and bearing the complexion of a man in his early fourties, he saw her, with the palest of blues. Dark hair tucked behind his ears with proper grooming and clean shaven. His brow wrinkled often with thought, just as now as the man waited for the Mother to make her peace.<br/><br/>A deep sigh and a gentle release he could only watch the mourning congregation begin to separate and part from the funerary service. Lingering in the distance his words offered a brief comfort,<b>“I understand. But it is understandable if you wish for more time, time that I cannot afford you, but the sentiment is not lost. A lust for life bears the sweetest fruits.” </b>It was not the first time the elder god had seen a soul brought to tears. She worried for her children, her family, and all those who had cherished her in her living.<br/><br/><b>“Now, now sweet Miriam do not fret. When it is your time to go there is room for nothing else. Be satisfied for the worst is done, the dying was the hard part.” </b>Approaching the mother’s spirit the dark deity of the underworld, Hades, raised a hand out in offer. He would not steal away a longing soul. It coated their passing in bitterness and pain.<b>“I only promised the moment, my dear. Did I not?” </b>Her asked.<b>“You cannot be witness to all that follows. Let it pass, let it rest. Ease your mind for your daughters will be well taken care of.”</b><br/><br/>A long pause and stare illuminated questions for her. All that she wished to ask but with no time at all. Was it fair? She supposed fair enough as she took the hand of a kind Death. Her little ones were not so little any more. No more coos, no more tears. All those worries passed upon her deathbed. When the cancer came, she depended on her little angels. They saw their mother in another light weak and frail but they had a strength that she did not. And in that thought she would carry on just as her daughters would without her. With love. With patience. With grace.<br/><br/>In the shadow of a smile lost in the remembrance the god sent the mother on her way. It was better this way, to go in a hopeful thought where pain and loss was a distant glimmer.  Now alone for all but a few who lingered Hades would press a single white rose upon the tombstone with two coins pay the ferryman’s passage.