As only sistas can Part 3 or 3 short story

“I would still love them all the same, Jac-kie, no matter how they chose to live their lives.” Rea said in a very matter-of-fact tone.

“When that leukemia finally got the best of Cedric I thought I was going to die. A mother should never have to bury one of her own, it’s unnatural. But in my misery the Lord showed me how blessed I was. There are so many women who can’t have children, or children causing them a bunch of grief. But we all got good kids. No, we got great kids. Not one of us has ever had to go down to the jail house or morgue over something our kids done did. Not one of these kids has given us cause to hold our heads down in this community. So what if one of them happens to be different. Big Damn Deal, Sorry Ma”

My mother looked as if she had aged 10 years since the beginning of the conversation. Her hazel eyes, that normally looked as if she had a candle burning behind her iris, were unusually dim.

“What do you have to say about all of this Mae,” Lane asked compassionately.

“I don’t want to discuss it. Whether I or any of y’all will have to discuss it one day or not, I don’t want to discuss it today,” Mae said as she looked affirmatively into the eyes of each of her sistas, wondering why Jackie looked as if she were desperately trying to fight back tears.

“Well that is that, anybody hungry,” Big Mama said as she rose to her feet and headed to the kitchen, dragging Rea along with her like a disobedient child.

“Home cooked meals won’t cure everything”, Lane murmured as she walked toward the kitchen alongside Mae.

My mother, normally outspoken overly opinionated, still sat quietly, frozen, like Rea when Credic let go of her hand for the last time. Mae never decided to discuss “It” and neither did my mother.