I knew my mother and how her heart ached. She loved to be in love. She needed so much more than she could ever find. Doors were slammed shut by her own hand and the hands of others. They who could not satisfy her hunger, made excuses and she cried. The nights, that after a long day of work that she would adorn herself in mini skirts, knee high boots and cleavage exposing sweaters and blouses; those nights are when she shined. Her blue eyes sparkled and she won the hearts and affections of the many who gazed upon her beauty. They, however, overlooked the beauty that dwelled within her heart. My dear mother fought to be felt and heard. She tried, in vain, to please the hearts that she held. In time, they released her or her them. They could not understand her words that at times, did not come out just right. My dear mother would then spend countless hours trying to explain to those insecure hearts the intent of her words. They in their shallow, selfish hearts could not understand. She would then spend days crying them out her heart.
I know my daughter and the unselfish, loyal princess that she is. Not unlike my mother, she possesses the stardom; but has yet to see it in herself. Like her mum before her, she slams doors and sometimes her words do not come out just right. After a long day at work she comes home with open arms and an open heart to greet the heart that holds her heart. I cry for her. His heart cannot interpret her intentions, or, chooses not to. She tries, in vain, to please that heart. She loves to be in love. In time, her love is released and excuses are made to her. My darling daughter fights to be felt and heard. She does not ask too much of any person, but does give freely of herself. The beauty and longing in her clear, blue eyes, I have seen before in the eyes of my mother and in the eyes of myself.
I know myself. I know the longing and the need to be felt and heard that dwells in my heart. Like my mother and my daughter, I slam doors and have them slammed shut before me. I cry those shallow and selfish hearts out of my life. I wish that I could sit myself down with my mother, my daughter and myself. I wish that we could all speak freely, love peacefully, and be felt and heard by the hearts that we hold. My dear mother has been called home and therefore my daughter and myself cannot sit ourselves down with her. My daughter has a love that prevents her from speaking freely, loving peacefully or being felt or heard.
I am here; just watching, listening, seeing the sorrow, feeling the pain of my mother, my daughter and myself. I cannot bring my mother home. I cannot enlighten my daughter. I cannot make myself heard, felt or understood. My heart cries for my mother, my daughter, myself. Time passes. Pieces of hearts are bitten away by harsh words and misunderstood feelings. My mother left us with a nearly empty heart. My daughter yells to be heard and slams doors. I still cry away from my life those whom I gave pieces of my heart away to. My mother, my daughter, myself…
L.A.McNabb
Saturday, 22 February, 2003
12:50 P.M.