Who else but you could leave in my being the deep emptiness that grew with me over the years. Perhaps not having your attention and flattery aroused the insecurity that I still carry with me to this day? Was it your lack of protection that allowed the innocent girl to fall prey to this wicked world? I was a baby, but you didn’t get to hold me or enjoy my sweet innocent smell.
Was that part of your regrets?
Time would not return to mend those mistakes. You understood it a little late. No worries, we all make mistakes. I have so many questions, so few answers. I want to understand you but failed to ask you. Now it’s too late. Those actions come at a high price. You were not the only one that carried the remorse and shame of your error. In me are some traces I can’t extinguish; they are like a voracious fire in the undergrowth. It seems that I continue to overcompensate with my own kids and grandkids for any lack of attention for fear of ending up with regrets like you at the end of your days.
I have no lack of forgiveness, and I do not even feel resentment, just an inexplicable sadness that I cannot tear down from my soul. I never told you about it for fear of hurting you. I suffered for the lack of your presence in my life. I cried for you and longed for you often. My mom made sure through the years that I had a great picture of you in my mind. At school, I felt rejected, perhaps because everyone knew that I did not belong to the family God chose for me in your absence.
So, I was growing and experimenting in finding where to fit in. It seems that the world did not understand me. I felt the need to be part of the big puzzle of life. I wanted to be in harmony with the ones closest to me. But something was missing. I could not fit in. I was an odd part of the puzzle. My edges were probably too rough, probably too uneven, and it just felt that I was in the wrong box.
Over and over again, I felt their indifference.
That indifference caused pain and confusion in my lonely heart. Today you are no longer here. I don’t have the option to explain to you what the few years we shared meant to me. There is no opportunity to tell you about the pride I felt to prove to everyone that you existed. That you were not part of my imagination, that you were real. That I also had the surname enjoyed by the brothers I later met.
I continue to feel the sadness that does not seems to leave me. On occasions, it consumes me. What can I do? I’m like that; maybe that’s why those who lived near me didn’t understand me, appreciated me, or allow me to be part of their lives. I am different because I carry thoughts in my mind that they cannot understand. They did not know that I always loved you and wanted to meet you.
Although only less than a hundred miles divided us, I was not able to see you or be around you until the day you shortened the distance between us. I was thirteen, and I felt your closeness. Since that white car, like the white horse and the knight in the story, approached my house, my blood yelled at me; here comes your DAD!.
If you read and heard the song, it means that you have connected with my story. This story is my reality, and it may also be yours. Know that God is a healer and part of the healing is letting go. You may not belong to a piece of a group in society but will always belong to God. Blessings!