Maya knelt at the small headstone, as she had every week for the last two years.
“Sweetheart, there isn’t a minute that goes by that I don’t think about you. I wanted you so much…”
Her voice cracked. She couldn’t go on. She fell forward and sobbed quietly, supporting herself with one hand clutching the grass that had grown on the small mound that was the barrow of her treasure.
Maya stayed in place, head bowed, her anguish a raw nerve, the most devastating blow of her existence nestled a few feet beneath her. For the umpteenth time, she railed at an uncaring deity for taking her baby instead of her. The rage came, as always, like a black tsunami; it was all she could do to fight it back and find the will to go on another day.
Eventually, she stood, streaks of sorrow traced upon her face.
“I’ll be back again next week, Hannah. I love you. Mommy loves you. Always.”