I want to hold you like a small helpless child. I want to wrap you and keep you safe. I want to stroke your cheek and tell you everything’s going to be ok. Mother you the way we should have been mothered. Love you for just your existence. Tell you it’s ok, you’re ok. I want to let you relax in a safe space, let you be needed, tolerated, loved, honored and heard. I don’t think anyone heard you, no one loved you and let you know that you were ok. That it was ok to make mistakes.
I want you to walk on the beach one more time. To pick wild flowers. To trap a snake with a forked stick. I want you to see outside to fill yourself with fragrance and sound and the sun on your skin. I want that for you. But your immobile. Physically unable. I can only want those sensory pleasures for you. That is just my dream. My painful dream.
You’re so lost and helpless, it makes me so sad for you. Tragic. 84 years worth of tragic. You never realized your potential. Never realized your personal power. You were so sick I wanted nothing to do with you. Insane. I needed to love myself instead. I needed to save myself.
A new kind of compassion is birthing today. A new kind of wisdom making everything ok. I can’t fill you, I can’t live for you. You’re so lost now, more than ever. Trapped in a body that has no way to live and express all that is your story – never to get resolve. Never to been seen and heard. The saddest thing ever. Ever. You’re going to die with that information held close. Those secrets about those who stole everything from you.
You are left with a haunting, lingering, fleeting remembrance of horrors only you know. They’re locked inside, the evil – your private hell. You wanted to tell me, I know that. And you’re right, I will find out someday. I will. I’ll get all that info when you pass away. When you’re more whole than you’ve ever been. On the other side of this.
You were afraid of me, the loose cannon, the lost sheep. I had the power all along. I wasn’t afraid to speak it to tell others. You wanted that for yourself secretly, but could never have it. Something you didn’t know how to harness. You only knew to silence me. To control me. And that you did well.
Now I see you degrade yourself. Over and over is surely heartbreaking. You’ve NEVER thought you were doing, saying, being the right thing. Your confidence stripped. I hurt deeply for you, because you can’t hurt. You can’t lean into the support and melt. Your brain is being taken from you – little by little. You never wanted to remember, so here it is. As you wish.
Dependent. Again. On those you don’t trust. Those who are strange. Strangers who get to decide what to do with your body. Others make decisions for you. Tossed about from place to place. More of the same tragedy for you. It’s heartbreaking. The one who controls ends up with no control. Terrifying I’m sure. I will hold you in my heart. That’s all either of us has now. Goodbye Mother.