Squidward's mother rocked back and forth, her arms folded over her breast. Just an old woman; but she was deep in mourning for the loss of her only child. Tears flowed freely from her eyes ceaselessly, dripping down her cheeks.
There were no words for how deep, how soul-shattering her grief was. It was too deep even for tears to express, but all she had were tears; elaborate poetry and art had been Squidward's purview.
Against her chest, she clutched the letter he had sent her, the last thing she had received from her dead child...from poor, dead Squidward. Her little Squiddums; the boy she had comforted, had held, had rocked to sleep. She had loved him with everything in her. After his father had passed on, he was all she had.
And now, he had...
It was horrifying beyond belief. She sobbed harshly, wishing more than anything else that she could hold her poor son, just one last time. She wished that she could comfort him, as she had when he'd been young.
But that was impossible.
