Sleep entered John Stewart's room like some happy fingered 3 year old doing her first finger painting. Images and sounds filled his mind to form a cacophony of dreams that caused him to toss and turn. But the most chilling aspect to all of the nightmarish shades proved to be the small whisper that filtered through everything. Over and over again the small quiet voice called a singular refrain. Three simple words were the chorus. Three words that people so casually threw about without truly realizing the ecstasy and torment they brought.

In his mind, John Stewart tried to plug his hears. First, he used his fingers and hands. No good. He then looked at his right hand and concentrated on the ring. Perhaps the ring's formidable force field would block out the sound. No success. The refrain kept resounding in his ears. Although no louder than a secret admirer's quiet overtures spoken in the most intimate of moment's, the voice seemed to be yelling at him like a blast from a ship's foghorn Three simple words. Three bloody simple words.

Suddenly, the mists separated and the whisper grew fainter. Still dressed in his Green Lantern uniform, Stewart realized that he was looking up. Then he watched as a disturbingly familiar face formed. He shouted and cried. But the words didn't form a recognizable language.

The face's rounded features broke into a gentle and caring smile. The eyes, a deep pool of pure chocolate, looked on him with such caring. The lips, a perfect mocha almond blend, sang with such beauty that the birds listened for their musical notes. He even smelled the unique perfume that left the imprint of the finest rose garden in one's nose.

"How's my little man, hmm? I have such great high hopes for you, John. You are going to make me so proud!"

He felt her pick him up. The hands, delicate and smooth, caressed him and lifted him into a warm embrace. Despite himself, the Green Lantern sighed and relaxed at the touch. He felt the strong, yet soothing strokes of her hands on his back as he rocked him. Only one person made him feel so safe and secure. His heart sank. He knew that this couldn't be real.

Everything started with that small lump she felt while showering. She didn't pay it any mind. As time passed, she noticed that her energy level had mysteriously dropped. She went to the clinic. The doctor gave her six months. His head barely cleared the rail around her bed. Her room possessed an eerie calmness. The only noise to be heard were the intermittent beeps from the monitors next to her bed.

"The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. John, promise me that you will always make me proud. You are my hope and joy."

The voice barely carried her hoarse tones to his ears. The rounded face now was ghastly gaunt. Those smooth gentle hands were gnarled and nothing more than skin over bone. Still dressed in uniform, he looked into her eyes. They were still a deep chocolate pool, but they now looked through him as though glaring into a world beyond this plane.

"I promise," his voice cracked as much from the transition from childhood to manhood as from emotion.

"John, please don't ever forget that God loves you. And, baby, I lo..."

Beeeeeeeeeep.

"Momma! Momma! Mommaaaaaa!!"

He jerked straight up in his bed. The light from the street lamp highlighted the nightstand. He glanced over at the book again. For the second time in his adult life, John Stewart would cry.