My mom called me today. I could hear the pain and sorrow in her voice. It began to crack and she began to cry. I could not help her today because the same pain she felt, I felt. Two broken people in different time zones feeling the same pain and the worst feeling is not being able to make the woman who created you and bought you into this world to smile.
You see, my mother lost a son in a violent death and that emptiness I will never be able to fill. Those who have I am grateful for, my older brother and his son, my niece and her amazing personalities and lastly my other siblings. I on the other hand can not make a broken person happy as I am admittedly broken myself. I speak to her everyday and she worries so much about me and I about her that I wish she’d just focus on the others.
The countless lies I continuously tell her of, “I’m ok” are beginning to haunt me. She can sense it, she can feel it as she did birth and create me. No matter how I mask my voice and emotions she know and as I of her. I wish I could that pain she feels. I’d be willing to be the only broken one in the family to remove the brokenness in her heart. To help her feel whole again.
As we are mother and daughter with two complete different personalities the only thing that unites us other than blood is our brokenness. I simply tell her to pray and that there will be better day. The same words I tell myself as I stretch to get up in the morning.
Two broken people can not help one another but they can encourage one another. I need to hear her voice everyday because it brings a small sigh of relief to my brokenness. She needs to know that I am ok so to not worry her I change my voice and make sure she hears a smile.
I hear the pain in her voice and there is nothing I can do but tell her to pray. As that is all I do.