My mum heard about you.

My mother knows about the late hours I stayed up talking to ‘my friend’ on the phone, the very loud chuckles I couldn’t hold in, the unreasonable arguments about whether the moon was right above me or your house, or perhaps each and everybody had their own moon assigned to them.

My mum saw the immense joy I wore as long as ‘my friend’ was in my life.

My mum heard about you.

My mother never saw the end of my pestering about learning a different culture, way of living and limitations, all because I was so sure we’d end up together and how I’d love our children to know love and the roots right from us.

My mum knows about the interest I had in living far beyond my reach all because you were all I wanted.

My mum heard about you.

My mother knows exactly how her grand children would have looked like. My gorgeous eyes, a beautiful shade of brown, your smile, THAT DAMN SMILE!!! My heart.

My mum knows about Jhene, her adventurous spirit, huge heart, kind soul, her ability to light up a room with her presence, her healing smile, and how can I forget? Our answered prayer.

My mum heard about you.

My mother knows all the times I returned in men’s wear and lied about having bought them along the road, her grin and ‘anha’ was so loud I’d nearly blush from my memories of you the previous day.

My mum knows about the times I screamed ‘I love you’ across the table with just a look at you each time you came by home.

My mum loves you.

My mother never stops talking about how you made us happy and how great of a son you are.

My mum loves you. Or is it loved you now?

My mum heard about you.

So I wonder if she needs to hear of a you I never knew, a you I wish I never met. And I tell myself, for all the good times, this can be left out.

My mum will never hear about you. I myself wish I never heard or saw this you that I know now.

My mum…… sobs.

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