Native Son by Richard Wright:
“Forget me, Ma,” Bigger said.
“Don’t you want to see your old ma again, son?”
Slowly, he stood up and lifted his hands and tried to touch his mother’s face and tell her yes; and as he did so something screamed deep down in him that it was a life, that seeing her after they killed him would never be. But his mother believed; it was her last hope; it was what had kept her going through the long years. And she was now believing it all the harder because of the trouble he had brought upon her. His hands finally touched her face and he said with a sigh (knowing that it would never be, knowing that his heart did not believe, knowing that when he did, it would be over, forever):
“I’ll pray, Ma.”