As the moon shown through the window, I sit up wondering where I had gone wrong. What had I done to deserve this? She is gone. Where would we end up? Would anyone care? How will I support the boys on my own? I roll over; I wish I wouldn’t have woken up today. My mother is now dead and I have to fend for myself. I had no time before and we were barely getting by then. How can I raise 5 boys to be great adults when I am barely an adult myself? I had turned 18 three months ago, I had no experience taking care of children except when my mother was at work. I didn’t know all the morals or lessons of life. Morning will come soon and the boys will ask for mom. What do I say? Where do I go? Tomorrow will come before I will find the answers. Tomorrow will come too soon.

First it’s Jaxson, running in to wake me up, although I have not slept. This would be routine now. There was no other movement. The other boys would sleep till 10. How was I going to tell a 3 year old that mom would never be coming home? She had been driving to work, taking another night shift to get enough money to support us. The cops said she hadn’t even seen the semi coming. The reports predicted the semi was doing about 75 miles per hour when the impact occurred. They said she had died within the first 15 minutes, before the explosion. As I sit here no words can be said.
The other boys woke up about 9:30. This was strange. They never got up before 10 on a Saturday. They claimed that a blue jay had chirped and woken them. I didn’t know what I could say or do knowing this news would devastate them. Cole may understand, but only as well as a 17 year old boy could. What would happen next? Well whatever it was had to happen in order to move on. I called the boys to come sit in the living room. It was breakfast time now and as I look across their faces I knew they were innocent, they hadn’t done anything to deserve this. I open my mouth to speak, to put this terrible news into words that wouldn’t cut as deep. I know there is no way to hide it from them. My voice is silent. I have to tell them. I have to tell them now. To have us all gathered felt so strange, we were never all together anymore. There was always someone gone.

Jaxson sits on the floor in front of me and in his eyes I find the strength to speak. I stare at Cole as I say, “There was an accident last night.” Cole’s face changes, he knows there is more. The information flows through my mind. I speak slower this time, choosing my words wisely, “A small car and a semi were involved,” I take a slow, but labored, breath, “Mom was driving the car...” This was the moment where they reached clarity, everyone, except Hunter and Jaxson, that is. The deepening sadness on their innocent faces makes my heart shatter into even more broken pieces, when I thought it could shatter no more. There is a brief moment of silence; a stillness that stops time. Then gradually their barriers come crashing down like the waves on the rocky shoreline and one by one my brothers begin to sob.

They ask God where they had gone wrong, as if it were their fault, just as I had the night before. I walk away; I cannot stand to see the devastation in my brothers’ faces. I reach the kitchen as I hear tiny feet fall into step with my own.
“Why are they crying?” Hunter asks, “What happened?”
“Mom is not coming home, Bud.” I say. He deserves to know. Keep it simple. Knowing I will soon present my brother with the sad impact of this tragedy, I push on. “Mom was in a terrible car crash last night and died. She won’t be coming home. It’s just us left now and I just pray we make it together.” I stop. The words had fallen out; the pain had hit. I break down crying as I see Hunter begin to weep. I couldn’t just give up on them. Not like our father, not like the rest had. They had never done anything to deserve what they already had gone through and I couldn’t let them down. I couldn’t be like the rest. I soon come to my senses and regain my composure.
The sky is grey and the pain is surrounding us. The house is silent besides the small weeps of my brothers. I don’t know what they are thinking at this point. Night is coming soon and I slowly continue the nightly routine that mom used to follow. The boys each take a shower and get in bed as I wash Jaxson in a bath. I lie Jaxson in his bed about 10:00. He is sound asleep and as I watch him dream I see so much of my mother. I see her smile, her eyes, her ears... I slowly make my way down the hall to my room. I am about to close my eyes as there is a knock at the door. I expect it to be Hunter or Adam; instead I open the door to find Cole. I know he feels like he should be the strongest of us all, like he should be the one providing for us now. Neither one of us says a word as we sit on the couch.
As hours pass, the silence screams out. Cole looks up from his feet and says, “She was doing everything for us, we must do it all for her now.” In these words I see the true meaning of being a mother and loving your children more than yourself; putting them before yourself in everything. At that moment I look him in the eyes and together we know, we must somehow adopt the boys before they are taken. We cannot let them go. We cannot let mom down; it’s what she would have wanted. We part ways and go to sleep knowing tomorrow will be a long and difficult struggle.
Sunday was always cleaning day, but today there was no time. My morning started with phone calls to the Social Services Department and many local lawyers. Cole and I had split the long list of phone calls while the others played in the warm summer air. We left many voicemails and just hoped we would hear at least one response. Cole ran to the Social Services Department to pick up the papers needed for our request to adopt our brothers and ask the department if they had any advice. We knew our days together could be numbered, but we did not know how long we had. Our mother’s death was a shock and none of us had yet recovered, but still life without each other would be more difficult.
After a long day filled with phone calls and voicemails, dinner seemed to be a good place to talk. Each of us explained how we were feeling, the best we could. We discussed where we should move since we would not be able to afford the house bills with the minimum wages that Cole and I earned. The silence fell again, but was broken by the soft sound of Gage asking, “What about a funeral? Doesn’t she at least deserve that?” How could I have missed that huge detail? Arranging for a funeral had escaped my mind. The police said there was nothing left of her once the smoke had cleared from the fiery wreckage. We didn’t have the money for a funeral; we didn’t have money for groceries.

That night after the boys were all tucked in bed, Cole and I had to discuss this idea. Neither of us could figure out how we could afford all these arrangements. We agreed that we would both put in extra shifts at work and use my savings to host our mother’s funeral. We did not have a clue how much it would cost or even how much adopting our brothers would be, but we couldn’t worry about that yet. One thing was clear, we had to do this. It’s what mom would have wanted. The night turned into morning before our eyes.

This day was filled with more phone calls. Between the mountain of phone calls, the police called to discuss the items that were left after the crash. They said that her purse had been ejected from the car during the crash, and inside it was an envelope. It was sealed and addressed to, ‘My Children’. The officer recommended that we come to the police station and pick up her purse and the letter. How odd, I thought, this couldn’t be right. A note addressed to us?

The funeral home returned our call and they were very sorry for our loss and our current situation that they would reduce their price for their services. Brad Dunn, one of the lawyers we left messages for, returned our call; he received our message and would be willing to do anything to win our case. We made arrangements discuss the adoption of our brother the next evening. There was an automated call from Social Services that explained that our request had been received and would be reviewed soon.

Morning arrived too early, once again. Today was the day we would meet with Brad and pick up the letter from my mother. We would relive the details of the incident one more time, and hopefully have some more answers. We pulled up to the Police Station and I walked up the steps slowly, not knowing if this could make things worse, but yet invite a closure. After receiving the envelope I walked back to the car and opened the letter as I crawled in. I read it first to myself, then aloud.


My lovely children,


If you are reading this letter it means I am gone now. That I am now gone and will not be returning. There are lessons I have not taught you yet, lessons that are essential to life. I know this time will be difficult for you Destiny, but I know you will hold our beautiful family together and that you will do everything in your power not to disappoint me. Just know I am proud of you and what you are doing. Life can stop in a matter of an instant and I hope you all live every second of it happily. I have prayed everyday that I have given you the strength needed to guide you through life. I wasn’t able to leave much left for you. I know you will make it through, just know I tried to always give you everything and I will always love you. You kids are everything to me and please know that I will be watching you from heaven.












Love,
Mom

Silence filled the car and we took in the short message, the last paragraph of our mother. We knew these would be the words we would hold onto forever.

We had planned the small funeral for Saturday. We had picked out a casket, but inside there would be no body. Instead we filled it with the fond memories we had with our mother. The trips to the zoo, the nature walks, the car rides, all the memories that would still make us smile. She had made every little moment count. We were moving soon, knowing we wouldn’t be able to afford the house, into a modest 3 bedroom apartment. Life had become easier, somehow, as we knew there had been closure. We read her words each night before we went to bed, like a bedtime prayer. We lived, knowing we were being guided by our mother’s spirit, knowing we were upholding her wishes for our lives.

It had been nearly a month since the crash and we received a call from Social Services. I answered with a smile, expecting this to be the happiness that would hold us up. In seconds my world came crashing down. They said we did not have enough experience and that our income was too low to support the boys. They said the boys would be placed in a foster home as soon as possible and that when they could be moved they would give us a call. I started to cry. This cannot be true, I thought. How could they do this now? We had lived together this long and now they expected us to be separated? The sobs encompassed my entire body. “How could this happen?” Cole says more to himself. “We will fight this; they won’t separate this family. We have to do this for mom. It’s what she would have wanted.”