Mutterseelenallein

I wonder how often I cross your mind, and if you think of me sweetly.

By this point, I imagine your revisionist memory has painted our moments a different color. What has changed when you look back, and what remains the same? Is the snow that fell on me as a little girl still sugar, or is it salt?

Mother, my first source of comfort, and my last. You, my greatest love and biggest heartbreak. You... My ear, my hands, my rock. You, my latest stranger.

I can remember you clenching your jaw, and arching your brow, claiming that you wouldn't cry because it made you weak. Something always felt so wrong about watching you swallow that egg of tears down to your belly.

I cry so much, always.

One might assume that all I have left for you is resentment. Yet, I still hold this torch for you in my hand. It's interesting, this idea of unconditional love... The love between a mother and child, how it can never be snuffed out. How love can exist between the two, but does not a relationship create. Navigating this dichotomy is a bitch.

I look in the mirror everyday, getting to know myself a little bit better. I'm wearing this face that you don't see anymore, and I wonder how long it will be until you don't recognize me in a crowd. Aren't moms supposed to know every freckle, every scar, and every little thing you do? Are you my mother? Or was it really the Snort all along?

I'm angry when I miss you, because it cannot be fixed. I miss a figment of my imagination, and a misrepresentation of a person I believed in.

Missing you is just another thing you're making me do. Only it's not as benign as washing the dishes or brushing my hair. Do you remember brushing my hair? Or the day my hair had grown long enough to stick a funny little clip in it?

I cut my own bangs again last week... Remember your 4 year old little girl with the self-cut bangs? What did you feel when you looked into her eyes? That face with the chopped up bangs that only a mother could love?

That little girl that waited for you at the bathroom door, and called you all day at work. 703-491-8535. 703-580-8550.

You always said she was needy. And maybe she was.

I've become quite the expert at self soothing, unlike before. In those hard and lonely moments, I still reach for the phone to call you. I remind myself that you no longer exist... At least not for my comfort.

And so, I lick my wounds with care and try to carry on with my day.

But, of course you exist. Although my imagination has shipped you off to a parallel universe, the very human part of me realizes that we coexist in the same reality. And how could I not, when you live in my mirror? My home, in my drawers? In my photos and my words. You live in my kitchen, with the meals that I make, and at the table where I sit. "As long as I'm living, my mommy you'll be."

I know grief pretty well, and I recognize this hole in my stomach. Our indefinite goodbye is a death of sorts, and I know the ropes. Even when I've said all I had to say, it will never be enough to fill this void where a mother used to fit.

All I have left is to love myself as the mother I am. Comfort myself with the love I give to my own child, imagining it was the love you gave me when I was little.

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From DW.com (click to read entire article)

"Mutterseelenallein" is the 'mother' of all German words for 'loneliness.'

When you're "mother's souls alone," as this German adjective literally translates to, there is neither your mother nor any other soul around you. When you're "mutterseelenallein" you're not just alone, you're completely, utterly, alone."