The Daughter

Her mother was always very sad. Even when her laughter filled a room. Even when her voice swam in the air in song. There always seemed to be a sadness that lingered in her eyes. That darkness poured from her like sweat on a hot ninety degree day. The crinkle of her smiling eyes were always slightly moist from the deep blue that smothered her soul.

And all that the daughter could do was watch and wait. She knew it was only a matter of exhaustion before permanent sleep would overcome her mother. The tired fight thrown finally when no respite would replenish her spirit. And the girl knew it was an "eventually".

Eventually Mom would simply give up and die. Give up on trying to find her happiness. Give up on healing her wounds. Give up on wanting to rise in the morning and giving it a go. Eventually Mom would close her eyes and give up.

This sadden the daughter. She wished she could give her mom the spirit within her own body. Let her, no, make her see the light that was more intense than the darkness. She wanted her mother to know the woman she saw and loved every day.

A woman who found joy, no matter how small or brief in the simplest things. Finding a new root in a plant cutting. Walking barefoot in the mud. Laughing at the cats staring at an untouchable lizard. Picking up a rock in the parking lot.

The daughter pushed those images from her mind forward at her mother. She willed them to enter her mom's mind. She prayed that this sad woman would only see the happiness she really, truly had.

But those images seem to always hang there in the nothingness. They never seemed to move beyond the empty space directly before her mother.

So, the daughter could only wait. Wait and watch her mother torment herself with the infinite sadness. She waited for the the end. She watched with the same sadness her mother exhaled constantly.

The daughter wanted to scream out that she loved her mother but she knew the words would only be swallowed by the black hole. So, the daughter watched and waited. Watched and waited for the sadness to silence her mother's world. And her own.

Comments

[Lori]

I wanted to say something to this. But didn't know what exactly. Then this morning the daily "Think on This..." was in my inbox:

"Thus ye may find in thy mental and spiritual self, ye can make thyself just as happy or just as miserable as ye like. How miserable do ye want to be?"

~Edgar Cayce Reading 2995-3

I lost my joy thinking someone took it from me. Then I realized it was mine all along, that the only person who took it from me was myself. It was a long process of self-discovery--painful, and yet rewarding.

[Janis]

In many ways I am the mother you write of. I didn't used to be. I used to be happy.. to be able to find the joy in small things each day.

Then my daughter died. I'm still alive, but in many ways, dead inside. Many days are a chore to get through. I don't want to die. I just want my child back. I want to have the joy again.

I don't want my remaining children to be like the girl you write of.

Not sure how I get some of what I used to be back.. Still trying though...

I hope you keep trying too...