They took her away on a bright morning, silent like the enemy that invades our lives. My hands cradle ‘Doddy’ her favourite toy, never parted. Until now.
The phone rings. A weary, disconnected voice, ‘I’m sorry…’
No last kiss. No I love you. No goodbye.
I search the lines of coffins and the military trucks spiriting her away in the dead of night. Her last journey. Alone. Frightened. Not at peace.
Her baby brothers gather around my feet as their mother screams, piercing through my pain. The doll slips from my grasp as my heart shatters into a thousand glass shards. No more hope.
JoAnna Lamb, terminal people watcher, dream catcher, story weaver. https://jolambauthor.com/