Shadows set the mood.

Innocence left the room.

And all I know to do — is shed a tear for you.

A childhood paved with the foundations of poverty, an abusive father, a damaged body, and a mother with only love to give. . but that was life, wasn't it?
 

Hit after hit, Rogers witnessed the abuse inflected upon his mother's fragile shell. A man's courage is not inherited from the father, instead it is derived from the mother. The mother who never backed down from the drunken beast of a supposed husband, the farthest thing from a provider. Rogers stood beside his mother, as best as a boy could with illnesses creating havoc in every cell of his body.

There was a sickening shame following the death of his father where the boy believed all their problems would be solved. However, Steve's body continued to betray him, incapable of curing his mother from the inevitable expiration of the human condition. 

He promised her a better life, a better home, a trip to the country side, and his mother roused the energy for a kind smile as their time together slipped away. Never forget.

'Look, mom, I'm learning french.' 'I managed to save some money from work, and I bought you a new sewing kit.' She smiled at her son until she could smile no more. Rogers grabbed her thin hand, shoulders shaking with the overwhelming convulsions of emotions. 

"Please..." He shook her hand gently, pressed trembling lips to it, but his mother did not open her eyes again. The tiny room was filled with the sounds of a boy's mourning as the day came to and end outside the window, casting deep hues of orange and red on his mother's resting body. Steve knew she was gone, but he held onto her deceased hand until all warmth seeped out. 

"Je t'aime.. je t'aime. . mom. . mommy. ."