Godspeed

‘Dragon tales and the ‘water is wide.’’

She bit back a sigh, choking back the tears. She missed him. She missed him more than she thought was humanly possible. She felt horrible. The last time she had seen him was at least 6 months ago.

‘Pirate’s sail and lost boys fly.’

She had read him a bedtime story. He didn’t usually get a bedtime story, but she felt obligated to read him one. After all, it wasn’t like his parents would. So she had read one of his favorites, Peter Pan. He had fallen asleep with a smile on his face. She had kissed his cheek, tucked him in and left.

‘Fish bite moonbeams every night.’

He was such a sweet little boy, now look what had happened. Standing in the back, in the shadows, of the large room, she let tears finally fall. She hadn’t let herself cry, knowing it would never stop.

‘And I love you.’

She wondered if she had said ‘I love you’ to him the last time she saw him. She hoped she had. The tears ran silently down her cheeks, forming a small puddle at her feet. The priest was murmuring words of sadness at the front; many women were huddled over, sobbing. She would have sneered at them, but she had become one of them, on a lower level.

‘Godspeed, little man.’

Her baby boy, her little man, was gone. That little boy she had watched grow up, helped watch at times, was gone forever. The sweetest little boy, who was thrown in to such an abusive household with a mother who hit him and a father who was never home, was now gone. She wildly blamed the mother, though she had nothing to do with it.

‘Sweet dreams, little man.’

The last thing she had said to that little boy was sweet dreams. The whole day, she had barely paid attention to him. Instead, she had talked to her friend for hours and watched T.V. If she could do it all over again, she would hold him all day, never go to school. Instead, she would just be with him till that fateful day, try to stop fate.

‘Oh my love will fly to you each night on angel’s wings.’

She loved him with all her heart, still did. Just because he was gone, that meant nothing. The only thing it meant was that her love would fly to him on an angel’s wings, now that he was gone. She missed that little boy, so much. Her heart was breaking in her chest, lungs threatening to collapse from lack of air and too much sobbing.

‘Godspeed.’

She hoped that the angel would get there soon, reassure him that he was still loved.

‘Sweet dreams.’

She hoped he had a good time, had nothing but good dreams wherever he was now. She hoped that somebody was taking care of him.

‘The rocket racer’s all tuckered out.’

She smiled sadly as she remembered last Christmas. He had looked so happy when he got his racecar set. It was remote controlled and he had played with it all night. He broke it on accident when he got mad at it and his mom slapped him for that. He didn’t deserve that, he was just a little boy. He deserved none of the things that bitch of a mother had done to him.

‘Superman’s in pajamas on the couch.’

He had fallen asleep on the couch that night with his Superman pajamas on. She was surprised when she saw him with the Superman pajamas, everyone knew he loved Spiderman more. He was curled up slightly, knees bent in to his chest in a half fetal position. He had his thumb in his mouth, small smile on his face. His parents were already asleep so she had picked him up and carried him in to his room. She had tucked him in and then went to sleep herself.

‘Goodnight moon, we’ll find the mouse.’

His favorite book had been an older one, “Goodnight Moon.” He had loved the pictures and pointing out the mouse in each scene. She had read that book to him every night she had been there during his birthday weekend. His parents didn’t know, but they probably didn’t care either.

‘And I love you.’

His grandparents were sitting in the front row, leaning on each other, crying. Next to his grandmother was his mother who was leaning on his father for support. The father had a look of disbelief on his face, like he still couldn’t believe his little man was dead.

“Godspeed, little man.’

God, she hoped that angel got there soon. She would give her heart to that boy. She would give up anything, even her life, just to see him smile again, that grin where one of his front teeth was missing.

‘Sweet dreams, little man.’

He had come running in to the guest room one night, crying, saying something about a nightmare. Her heart nearly broke at his tear-stained face, eyes red and puffy. So she had comforted him, insisting that there was no such thing as the boogeyman, and he had fallen asleep in her arms, mumbling thanks. She had felt happy at the fact that when confronted with a nightmare, he had come to her.

‘Oh my love will fly to you each night on angel’s wings.’

The times when she hadn’t read him a book, she had sung a lullaby to him, patting his back. Her own mother used to do this when she was smaller. She sang various lullabies to him until she found a song that he liked her to sing. It was one of her favorites, “Godspeed” by the Dixie Chicks.

‘Godspeed.’

He danced to the music she played, making her dance with him. They would laugh, dance and have fun until his mother had yelled at them for making too much noise. Then they had smiled about it and silently sung. On every play list they made together, they had to put “Godspeed.”

‘Sweet dreams.’

She had let him fall asleep listening to her CDs once, a mixed CD she had made. He had figured out how to use her CD player quickly and when she went in to check on him around midnight, he had put the CD on repeat. He was always smart.

‘God bless mommy and matchbox cars.’

His mom had bought him matchbox cars for his birthday, he collected them. When he had opened the present, he was grinning ear to ear. When he had looked to her for a present, she turned red and mumbled about not having enough money. Instead of being upset, he had hugged her and said that the stories and music were fine.

‘God bless daddy and thanks for the stars.’

He loved the nighttime, where he could see the moon and stars. He loved looking at the stars, pointing out constellations his dad had taught him. He only knew a few, but he was proud when he could spot them. If he found one before anyone else, that was an added bonus.

‘God hears ‘Amen’ wherever you are.’

He prayed every night, kneeling at the side of his bed, asking God to bless his family. She had watched him pray one night and was saddened that he had to ask God to bring his own father home more often. He had also prayed that he would be good enough that his mom wouldn’t hurt him. Once he finished, instead of holding him close and telling him nobody would harm him anymore, she had just tucked him in and said goodnight.

‘And I love you.’

People were getting up from their seats and the priest had stopped murmuring. It was time to go watch the casket get dropped in to the ground. The same casket that held a once beautiful little boy, so full of life.

‘Godspeed, little man.’

The small group of people walked down a beaten path until they got to a giant hole in the ground in front of a small tombstone. Her little man’s final resting place.

‘Sweet dreams, little man.’

She could barely hear the priest talking over the sound of her thoughts. They were lowering the casket, lowering him, in to the ground. The casket made a small thud as it hit the bottom.

‘Oh my love will fly to you each night on angel’s wings.’

The priest, from what she could tell, was talking like he knew the little boy. How could he? This was just a random priest from some damned random church somewhere. He couldn’t possibly know the ray of light that was her little man. The ray of light that had been burnt out forever by careless mistakes.

‘Godspeed.’

They started to shovel dirt in. His mother had fallen to her knees, his father trying to calm down the sobbing women.

‘Godspeed.’

Soon, it was filled. She was thankful she had taken a bus, she could stay here for a little longer. The others started filing out in small groups, women crying.

‘Godspeed.’

When the last left, including the priest and then men who had dropped the casket in the ground and poured dirt on it, she allowed herself to weep freely. Letting out soft cries of pain, the tears fell faster. After a minute, she became aware that she had fallen to her knees. She stood up, walked over to the tombstone, and knelt before it. She slowly traced the words carved in to stone. His name, his birth to his death and an inscription she had picked out.

‘Sweet dreams.’