Will You Accept Fate or Destiny’s Decision?

Tears of joy and tears of sorrow erupted inside the Billingsworth Resident Magistrate Courtroom, after Justice Jacob Burke, handed down the death penalty for twenty-five years old Marcus Wilson.

Tears, pain, and regret increased the pressure in Shari Malcomb’s heart as she stumbled out of the courtroom while the reporter’s cameras flashed after snapping many pictures.

Ten minutes later Shari dragged herself from her car and forced herself into the Phillimore Cemetery in search of her sister’s headstone. Her attention was pulled a few yards away towards the east by a mourning dove sitting atop a headstone cooing softly once, then twice again. Easing closer, checking the numbers on the tombstones, the bird sat atop Sharmaine Blackwood’s headstone.

Years of regret and pain denied her the ability to comprehend the moment why a bird would be atop her sister’s headstone calling her.

Wiping away tears, a familiar voice said, “I know he got the death penalty.”

“I tried to save him,” Shari wept as the agony of a life loss pushed her into the moment. “I did everything I could.”

“I know,” the voice said as the bird stared at Shari. “I told you fifteen years ago; you couldn’t save him from the consequences of his actions.”

“He is your only child. How could you not love him.” Shari wept in anguish.

“I knew him. You didn’t take the time to,” the same familiar voice protests. “You were too busy on your crusade to save him to realize that not all souls belong in heaven.”

“But you were his mother!” Shari bawled out. “He came from your womb!”

“I knew him,” the voice said without emotion. “You didn’t.”

“Maybe if you could love him, he would have been a different person and didn’t have a reason for doing all the wrong things he did,” Shari defends.

“Mothers are always blamed for the hell their children reign in life. Well,” the voice of her dead sister went on. “I did everything a mother should. Sometimes fate and destiny are stronger than a mother’s or Aunt’s love!”

The bird flew away as Shari felt herself slipping. Someone held on to her and she unconsciously swung around into her son, Michael's arms. Consoling his mother, leading her towards one of many two-seat concrete benches in the cemetery. He gently lowered her and sat beside her. Wiping her eyes with the handkerchief he took from his jacket pocket, he gently took her hands in his, then consoles, “Mom, stop torturing yourself. All of what you did, you were just delaying the inevitable.”

Shari’s heart and memory catapulted back to the many times and incidences in which she tried to save her nephew. Every time she visited him in prison. In juvenile halls and various high schools and colleges, he was expelled. Paid his lawyers, psychologists, psychiatrists, therapists, and the fines he incurred. Staring at her eighteen-year-old child, reading the pain in his heart that rushed to his eyes, she hugged him tightly as a familiar voice inside her taunted, “You were only delaying fate.”

Easing from his embrace with a smile and strength along with the wisdom in the words of a child, she caresses his face and said without the consent of her heart, “You are right son.”

“He wants to die Mom and he wants to see you,” Michael said.

Three days later, Shari sat inside one of many private rooms for lawyers and their clients at Wilson Marks Super Max Penitentiary. The child whose birth she witnessed and helped to raise sat around a square-shaped metal table. His hands clasped together handcuffed to metal rings welded in the table. His feet are chained to metal rings planted in the concrete.

Shari searched his eyes, digging deep into his soul for something, anything that would lift the pain and regret her heart refused to let go. She found nothing she could hold on to.

He smiled, relief painted his face, settling her heart rate for a few moments.

She dug deep inside and found strength in the confident smile of relief on his face. Her heart warned her that it was a facade.

He shared, “Don’t feel bad Auntie, you did your best to try and save me from the hell I helped to create for myself. We all know that.”

“You are giving up?” the sadness in her heart poured. Her emotions and love for him refuse to accept the truth.

“It’s over Auntie,” he relents. “I have accepted the card Fate dealt me.”

“Beat all of them and prove everyone wrong,” she the sadness in her heart coaxed.

“No,” he nods. “All of the things you did; you were only delaying fate and destiny. You are free Aunt Shari. Love is a powerful emotion, not even a mother’s love is strong enough to deny fate its payment. It can only delay it, like you and my mom have been doing for years. I have accepted Fate’s decision. Do the same!”

He signaled the guard, who came in asking Shari to leave. She squeezed his hands and walked out fighting tears and the truth of life.

How many of us love someone and fight to save them from fate or destiny?

Love is indeed a powerful emotion, but sometimes, it’s not strong enough to battle fate and win. But it does possess the power to delay it. Annelise Lords

Have you ever tried to delay Fate or Destiny? Would you accept their decision?

Thank you for reading this piece. I hope you enjoy it.