A letter from a mother for her son 25 years old. My son! This is a letter from your poor mother, ashamed that I am writing, but indecision and after a long wait, I got the pen several times, but the tears prevented, stopped the tears and the heart sometimes not allowed. My son! After a long time, I see that guy as you do not break my heart. O my son! 25 years ago was a happy day for me when the doctor announced that I was pregnant, mothers are aware of the meaning of this word, it is a mixture of happiness and joy to start the concern of many changes in the body. After that I kept my 9 months in the womb, lifted with difficulty, difficulty sleeping, eat and breathe difficulties but all this does not minimize my love for you, but it increased day by day I was eager to see. I hold my son, difficulty after difficulty, pain after pain, rejoice in your movements (in the womb), rejoice in your weight gain even though it was hard for me. They were suffering long after this that night when I sleep I put in the eye, I was suffering so great that the pen can not write the language can not mention, I faced death several times and then you went in life , thy crying could easily be mixed up with tears of joy in my pain away ei wounds. O my son! I want to see, do not want more than that, let me see your facial appearance. O my son! Most heart weeps tears flow on, while you continue to be the people you are at talking to your good morals, respect and kindness to their generosity. O my son! Do not time your heart melt a humble old lady who has mangled and wrecked goods boredom, end to his feelings, his heart angry tears that were said. Please do not complain of against you, do not display anger, that if my prayer will be the passing clouds came to the gates of heaven will come off my vengeance upon you and your family will come down disaster. No, no I do not, continues to be a son of my soul, joy of my life and spring. Bindu my son, they go gray, will take years and will you also be the reward is as old job, you have to ask the paper written your son in tears, as I wrote I knew that Allah collected complaints. O my son! Fear Allah, to your mother, stopping the tears, comfort her distress, and then if, delete its letter, the knowledge of who is doing well for himself and who is misbehaving has for himself.
Posted on: Tue, 11 Jun 2013 19:16:10 +0000
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