February 12, 2011
alone with my thoughts in a coffee shop
Another day, another Star*bucks... same issues.
I don't miss my actual "mother." I miss the idea of having a mother. And I am staggered by the enormity of my loss, the sheer depth and breadth of what has been missing from my life, and no matter what happens next, no matter how lovely things might (someday) get, I can never go back and fill in that blank. Sometimes we never get back the things we lose.
I know it will be driven home all the more, when I finally watch a child of my own grow, encompassed completely by my love, true mother-love; the kind of love I've never experienced for myself.
Reaching for more words; but they're not very interested in making an appearance tonight, I'm afraid. Or... perhaps that's just it: I am still afraid.
I desperately need someone to cheer me on; to notice when I'm doing well, and tell me so. (Because really, I am doing remarkably well.) But all I can hear is the echo off of 27 years of silence.