Impossible. It can’t be. This has to be some cruel joke. There can be no God so awful as to allow this to be true. My sons, my sons, oh what have you done. You were suppose to listen to your grandma as you grew up,
But you did not.
Your were suppose to use that money to fund your education, your skills, your minds, and find a way out of that country, and back to me,
But you did not.
You were not suppose to use that money on booze and women.
You were not suppose to be drunk in public, and start a fight with the local gang.
You were not suppose to die before you had a chance to be free.
Not once, but twice was this mistake made. I only had two sons, but I had two sons no more.
I have no more reason to be in this foreign land. This wasn’t the answer I was looking for.
– I will be seeing my wife and sons soon.
This was a homework prompt from my VR writing group, with the prompt being “ That wasn’t the answer I was looking for.” I thought back to a sad story my dad had told me about a cousin of his who illegally immigrated to the United States, so I thought I would do it a bit of justice by sharing it.
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