Mother Part 2 of 2

Mother Part 2 of 2

I sat in the middle of the intersection as my sorrow and desperation increased. That ball of touch began to give more emotion than it was receiving. I noticed that the drivers seemed more solemn as they passed, but none of that mattered. I wanted one of them to help me, so I tried to project this with this new sense of mine. All of my desperation and sorrow and urgent need was channeled into that ball of energy. If it had a size, it would have exceeded the intersection by a few yards on all sides. Drivers became more concerned for the accident survivors, but that was not what I needed! Some simply began to feel sullen, but that didn't help me at all. I doubted anyone would acknowledge this "haunch" that they got, but I kept trying all the more.

It's said that no words describe a mother's tears. That's because the most intense tears are from the mother who's left her child too early, and no one can hear a spirit's tears.

One motorist stood out among the rest. While most would pass the intersection with a frown, this young woman's eyes welled up and reddened while she breathed sobs. I could tell she had no idea why, but assumed that the reason was the delay because she was already late. I prayed that someone as sensitive as her would return and help me.
An hour later, she did return. I focused on her as she passed and she began breathing harder, even though all I could say to her was "Help me! I need to get to my..."
I refused to despair, and sure enough, she returned. This time tears rolled down her cheek.
About ten minutes later I heard my sobs audibly as she walked up to the intersection. "My god," she whispered to herself, "she was a mother!"
I couldn't believe my luck! I focused on her, walked with her, and told her everything. The accident was clearly my fault, but she interrupted my guilt with "No blame. No blame." I was too frantic to argue.
She picked up a pidgin's feather and imagined giving it to my daughter, saying "Here, I think your mother wanted me to give this to you."
"Don't give that thing to her!" I yelled, "It probably has mites all over it!"
She nodded and asked me what my favorite flower was. I imagined her putting it at my grave and freaked out. The only way she got me to calm down was saying "Flowers are to be given to the sick, in order to encourage them to get better."
With that, I decided to tell her that I like dandelions. That was one thing my daughter has taught me. Dandelions are flowers, not weeds.
"I need to know where the closest hospital is. Can you tell me? Or better yet, lead me there in a car?" The girl replied that she would return. As she walked away, I sensed that her thoughts were on a painting of a dandelion and if it would be appropriate to present it to my daughter. I called to her that it was more important to get to my damn body!
Ten minutes later she returned in her car. In the passenger seat lay the printed-out directions to the nearest hospitals, and the pigeon's feather under it. She told me to come with her, and I found it easier to remain in the car when I held onto the feather.
It was snowing, and I often cautioned her on her driving while thanking her for being temporarily insane on my behalf.
I began sensing the spirits of my daughter and husband as soon as we were within the same mile of the hospital, but I knew it would still be difficult to get in. As she neared the parking lot entrance, I turned to her and begged, "Just go inside the doors for me, please!"
"Okay," the girl replied, and did so.

Once we were inside the building, I pushed for her to wander around with me until we got to the hall towards the X-ray development. I turned to her and pushed all of my feelings of gratitude at her as I said, "I can find my way from here. Thank you so much!"

The girl left the feather on the railing by the wall, conscious that an old man saw exactly what she did. She walked past him, pretending she knew exactly what it was she was doing.
On her way out, she stopped at the gift shop. They had overpriced Beanie Babies, but it seemed right to buy a pink giraffe and an adhesive gift card with zoo animals on it. Inside the card, she wrote: "To the little girl Who's Momy is holding onto for" Somehow it seemed like a cute touch to misspell "Mommy," but the truth was that she was still too distraught to have spelled it right the first time.
With this gift, she went to the bathroom and found how red her eyes and cheeks and nose were from all the sobbing. After wiping her face, she left the hospital, praying that the girl would find the gift and know that it was for her.