I Still Cry For My Mom


A pregnant woman crying.This is going to be hard for me to write.

It’s hard for me to admit.

Anyone who knows me says that I keep a wall around myself. Something that will protect me in case anything happens. So that I don’t get attached or hurt. I hardly let anyone into my life. I have been hurt in the past, and I guess as you get older, you start to trust less and less, but when you are in my life, I love you to the ends and back.

It’ll be nearly six years since my mother passed away.

Six years since I heard her voice.

Six years since she gave me comforting hugs and looked at me with pride.

Six years since I’ve felt an honest connection to goodness on this earth.

Now, I am a mother of my own, and I have no one to call when my own child is going crazy.

No one I trust to hear advice from.

No one to rush in when times are tough.

No one to tap in when I want to tap out.

My mother would show up on a whim. Just because she felt like it. Just because she found a small little something she thought you deserved or needed, or just because she wanted an excuse to see you.

Now, there’s this void.

This emptiness that, no matter how hard I try, will never be filled.

No matter how old we get, we still long for the hugs. The head rubs. The smiles. The cuddles.

I cry for my mother like my daughter cries for me.


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