Lost & Found- Open Letter to My Daughter

The powerful bond we share.

I feel pain. My heart hurts. I began to cry tonight, and I don’t cry.

For months we have done life side by side. Our relationship has been fire and ice. These past seven months, we comfortably swam between the extremes. Proud of you for your determination, I remember day one-August 27, 2019.

We have spent countless days shopping, lounging, laughing, eating, and talking. We also spent long nights binge-watching crazy shows, overeating ice cream, and staying warm by an electric fireplace. We speak in our language, and we don’t care what others think.

Our relationship differs from others; it is the silent truth between us. I’m the brutally honest mom who speaks in love. I toned down the brutal part, and my words aim at gentle honesty when I can. I won’t hold back, though, and you accept that. You are beginning to listen, and be honest yourself.

You are an encourag-er, and I work to help you encourage yourself. Your kind words lift us all. I’m not sure you recognize this gift. One day, you will.

Will separation break my heart?

In a few days, you have to leave for half the year. Tonight, it hit me hard. Our long nights snoring side by side, you on the chair and ottoman and me on the couch, are coming to an end.

You made some tense moments bearable. I had my best friend to listen and rant. For the first time in a long time, someone helped me with those things that moms do around the house. I felt like a team with you here.

I can’t stop crying tonight. The thought of you not being here is overwhelming. In the middle of the chaos and my disconnect, you gave me a purpose to hold it together. I long to see you past everything that is coming and living on the other side. You are moving toward the place where joy exists, and life will change. This small section of life will blur, and your focus will shift.

You have come so far. The beauty of seeing someone find themselves after countless years of searching is rewarding. Each day you find a new piece. Your timid steps are admirable with the goal of not hurting others along the way. But now is the time for you to do you. Standing on your own two feet will feel good. You are on the verge of change upon change. I am pleased.

My sorrow feels selfish. You can’t change what is to come. I know this but choose selfishness. I won’t share it with you, because I don’t want to add to your stress plate. I love you. Thank you for loving me.

Your lessons in love make me a better person.

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