JINK
~
Little Ben toddled into his parent's bedroom, sippy cup held in both hands, as he headed for his mother's side of the bed where she lay silent, eyes shut.
A slice of morning sunlight caressed the three-year-old's cherub-like cheeks as it filtered through the partially drawn curtains of the bay-fronted bedroom, illuminating tiny dust motes as they swirled with the toddler's eager padding footsteps.
Ben stopped at the bedside, gazing at his mother's pale face. He tentatively patted her hand as it lay upon the bed sheet, fingers partially curled as if holding something precious and fragile.
Raising his sippy cup, Ben carefully pressed the mouthpiece to his mother's ashen lips, as any three year old could, and said, "Mama jink," but the watered juice simply trickled from the corner of her mouth and down her cheek.
Ben didn't understand. The look of bewilderment and confusion etched into his little face crushed Ben's father's heart as he gently picked up his son hugging him tightly, tears running down his face.
"Mama's gone to heaven, Ben... no more wake up."
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