A mother’s love

My son. I love you and I always will and I am sorry. 

Mother. I did it; and I wish I had not; and I am sorry for having done it.

We chose to enter. Weren’t we warned? You knew the consequences. You understood that if you stepped foot through the opening, you should leave your hope behind. Yes, it’s below freezing. It does not matter what kind of warmth you begin with, we were never meant to leave. If we turn around, we lose everybody. “I refuse to let you go back. Pick up your backpack and march soldier!” Ross wouldn’t even make eye contact with Mark Jones. He picked up his backpack and moved a step closer towards his icy tomb. His biggest regret was being ready for this journey. Through the years he had prepared tirelessly for this very opportunity, for this very kind of mission, so one day, he could get to walk alongside his hero Mark Jones. He spent every dollar, had gone to every training camp, and rose above the ranks to be that very same hero one day. Yet there he knelt, the cause of everybody on that mission having one less minute of an opportunity to defeat the great darkness. No one knew exactly what lied ahead. What they were all certain about, was the impossibility of ever returning. No mission prior had ever taken on this form. When Ross had heard about what he was assigned to, he trembled. His proud mother, having been in the crowd, he searched for her. But couldn’t find her. He couldn’t meet her eyes. She could see him, but he couldn’t see her. Immediately, they escorted the soldiers through the tunnel, purposefully, avoiding giving them the chance to say goodbye to their loved ones. Preemptively, they asked all the families to write letters to the soldiers for the deadly mission. The letters would serve as encouragement for the journey. The families wrote all in hopes that their loved ones would return. Giving Ross that letter now, would only further exacerbate his emotional state. Mark Jones had a way of pushing his men to the ultimate limit. He always knew how to bring them back from the brink. This time, he would require them to jump past the brink. 

What? What do they mean? A mission of no return? Ross! Ross! Ross! Oh God. He doesn’t see me. He can’t hear me. I can see his face. He’s scared to death. They’re walking them out. Bring them back! No one else joined me. It was a group of 10 men. In a crowd of 5000 people. Of course they wouldn’t understand what I’m going through. They’re all proud of these men for sacrificing their lives so that we may live on. But that is my son! That is my son! No, bring him back! Let me hold him, one more time! I hadn’t even noticed I was on my knees in the midst of the crowd. I sobbed in that spot for hours. No one checked up on me. Of course they wouldn’t. My only family. He was all that I had left. Fighting for our community was everything he wanted. But not this! This was too much! It began to rain. I felt numb. I managed to get myself up, I felt like everybody was watching me. It’s sort of that feeling you get when you need help, the kind of help nobody can give you and they know that and you know that, but they wouldn’t dare offer what they do not have. In your misery you feel bad for them almost, wishing you could help them help you. I went home. I would never see him again. I sat there for days, sometimes weeping and sometimes still as a rock. What was the point of eating and caring for myself? I refuse it. This wasn’t the dream we both dreamt for him. I knew that he had hoped he would live to see the day he would become a hero, but he never wanted to be dragged into death by his own hero Mark Jones. That is who is responsible for all of this! I stood up, and then I sat back down. Oh what do I do with myself? Another 48 hours of my life passed before I stood up, grabbed my coat and walked straight to the tunnels. There it was. The entrance, above which read “abandon all hope ye who enter.” When my son entered the tunnels, this may have been true for him. Not me! For the first time in the last few days I had given myself hope again. As weak as I felt, I had never been stronger in my life. They saw me at the entrance, those scoundrels! They laughed smugly. I looked at them and walked straight in.

Two days in. I know he was here in this cave. Those are his boot tracks. I’m certain of it. It’s warmer here, much warmer than I would’ve imagined. In that fit of rage a few days ago I hadn’t grabbed any food. Water is easy. There are plenty of dead trees and this cave makes it possible to set up a fire and use my coat to scoop up snow and hold it just high enough over the fire so that my coat doesn’t burn and the snow melts so that I may get a drink. I’ve gone longer than a month without food. So has Ross, my strong capable child. I raised him right. Hunger is the easiest part. The hard part is not knowing what he is going through. It’s getting dark and the moon is full. I must get going. I drank my last bit of water, stood up, and left the cave. As long as I find my son, I will die in peace.

My greatest memories are all of you my love. If I could just have you hold me one more time then I could also die in peace. You would be so proud of Ross and I know you would be right by my side looking for him. 

What am I after? What happens when I find him? Will it matter? From what I’ve heard about Mark Jones, how much he changes you after you’ve been out with him. What I always observed about those men that came back was that they were never the same. They never looked you in the eye. God knows what he had them do. A lot of them lived on the outskirts of our village, wanting to be left alone, hoping nobody would come to visit them. Almost none of them ever went back for the ceremonies. The legends around them grew, and people told stories on their behalf, and Mark Jones had always told stories on their behalf. Never occurred to me until now that I may not want my son back and that he may not want to see me after he’s completed what he has been sent out to do by Mark Jones. All the other mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers relished in the stories that were told of their family members who went out with Mark Jones. For what other choice did they have? Sit there and despair or embellish the very little they got back after those missions. That’ll be me most likely. My son is something worth fighting for though. As I said, I expect to die in peace after I see him