The path to mending a tattered and torn heart can be a rugged course that leaves one both physically and emotionally exhausted. This road to healing requires time, patience, understanding and, more importantly, forgiveness…obstacles that seem enormous when the walls of anger and bitterness block us from reaching those guideposts.
It had been several weeks that I remained in the depths of sadness without any communication with my daughter. I could sense her spirit was cold and a darkness hovered over her soul. Perhaps it was my own fear that kept this distance between us but I was numb to move forward.
A poem arrived penciled in her handwriting and I cautiously began to read:
“Mom–I know lately I’ve pissed you off, like you’re going out of style; but when I see my belly button, I cannot help but smile. The deepest, best connection that you and I once shared; our relationship is damaged, because I’ve been impaired. I want so bad to mend it, but I don’t know where to start; I love you so much mommy, from the bottom of my heart. I know I’ve made mistakes, and I hurt you in doing so; the selfish things I’ve done, I never thought I’d stoop so low. One day I hope we can move forward, because nothing can undo; no one in the world, could ever mean more to me than you. As a mother, wife and daughter, you do so much for us; I see how immature I’ve been, when I would fuss or cuss. This is my apology, the only way that I know how; if you accept, by the grace of God, a new journey we walk now. I’m sorry I always made things hard, and rebelled to what you asked; from reality I was blinded, and my consequences masked. Take the lead and guide me, for I am a long lost soul; your outreached hand could be, the one to pull me out this hole. Love Always, Your Baby Girl”
My eyes had swollen up with tears and overflowed onto the page before me. The healing process begins.
I quickly grabbed my pen and answered back her words:
“To My Sweet Baby Girl–The connection shared, my daughter dear, is as deep as love can be. My hand has always been right there, though sometimes hard to see. The path you chose turned murky gray, and sucked you from my grip. I fought to find my way to you, but the ground began to slip. The ache I felt when you were no more, the little girl that I knew. For drugs had taken over her, yet there was one thing I could do. I bowed my head and prayed to God, ‘I know You have a plan. Please bring my baby back to me, I’m trusting that you can.’ The hope I have you’ll change your ways, is left in your control. But know my hand is there for you, when you climb up from that hole. With All My Love, Mom”