We are fairly easy to pick out in a crowd.
Look for the woman who is smiling, her eyes shining bright, laughing, and making those around her feel at ease.
Look for the woman who stands tall, head held high, who appears as though she has the world at her fingertips.
Look for the one who comforts those crying, the first to rush to help whomever may need it.
Look at her. Look deep into her eyes, past the bright pupils, past the wide open expression and caring gaze. Look deeper into her soul. There you will see what lies beneath.
You will see the pain, the darkness, the longing to be held and comforted. You will see the empty hole that the loss has made in her heart and soul. You will see that shell of a human being, where lies pain, sorrow, fear and loneliness.
Deep past the façade there is a little girl screaming to be held. To be noticed. To have her hair stroked and her hand held. The woman longing to be loved and cared for. The lost young girl lost, roaming the streets of life, looking constantly for approval, for her identity, for direction.
She is looking to be guided on how to become a woman, how to be a mother. Most importantly, she is looking for her own mother. The one who was to protect and guide her down life’s path. The one who was to teach her to bake apple pies and write and sing. The woman who was to always be there, whose light once shined down these streets, yet now, it has dimmed.
There is a loneliness we all carry, us motherless daughters. A loneliness that no man, friend or distraction can take away.
There is a sense of searching, constantly, for something, someone, to make the pain and sorrow go away. It does subside at times, as it comes in waves, sometimes hitting us out of nowhere when we find that Christmas ornament we made with her when we were five. Knocking our breath away when we find that letter she wrote for us on our birthday remembering the presents. The pictures. The memories. Looking at what we have remaining of her, wishing and hoping that we could have had just one more day.
All that we need is someone to care. To hold our hands when we feel as though we are the only person standing on this Earth, having endured one of the hardest battles life puts you through.
All we need is to feel that sweater, that arm or a hand, next to ours. We just need to know that you are there. With us, holding us and protecting us.
All we need and want is you to help us put that ornament on the Christmas tree and bring out the Christmas china when we cannot bear to look at it, nonetheless touch it. To be next to us as we sit in the middle of the living room with letters, books, pictures, anything we have left that reminds us of her, crying ourselves into oblivion.
All we need is for you to promise to not dig that hole in our heart any bigger than it is and to follow after us when we want to run and hide.
We are strong women and if you are strong enough to catch us, just never let us go.
Author: Elizabeth Wade
Image: Igor Menezes Fotógrafo/Flickr
Editor: Katarina Tavčar