How did mama cope, with the dope of my illness, my chillness, my coughing up spells on midnight's black stillness? How did she cope when they called at her job, to say I couldn't breathe 'cause I'd choked on my slob? How did she cope in the emergency room when they'd given up hope, and the times when I fought 'cause my meds taste like soap, or times when I barfed up all over her coat? How did she cope, when the look in her eye hid the tears she disguised even as she offered me fries? How, how did mama cope? /\ Mama coped with her faith and she coped through her prayers, down on her knees by the bed at God's gate- Her voice was oft' lifted in praise to her God, but many a time she'd cry; Why? Why me Lord? But she'd always protect me, never once did reject me; all she said was: 'my son, you be strong like a lion;' all she said was: 'my son, they can't break you with iron.' As I sat on her bed on that last day so dread, the last words she uttered were: 'son, you my dream realized.'