Like a limb that’s missing, one learns to adjust. Phantom pain still lingers. Life moves forward.
Blessed with good health, beautiful people in my world, their absence, once the center of everything, the adjustment grows, evolves, shifts. They are not my universe. They are my children.
Words escape lately, as feelings are somewhat numb, without the disruptive urgency I had years ago. Lives – theirs and mine, far removed from each other, loves never wanes.
What wanes is the need, yearning, desperate longing for closure. The moments of desperation still arise. My heart skips beats when triggers prevail, though one learns to breath differently those times. My eagerness for reconciliation, though welcomed as always, replaced – a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. Grateful they are alive and thriving young independent thinking women. Disbelief in that I did raise two daughters, did I not?
After a time, the ‘why’s’ of estrangement lose the significance they once had. Each year, I’m learning, as a mother, I shall always be a mother. Each year, every year, my story moves in conjunction with theirs.
There is no closure with estrangement. We can only begin to reconcile by beginning with ourselves. Perhaps a new chapter awaits. Let the language I love carry me further.
We’ll find each other soon. 💜