Live to the Max

“Mom,” is all the text would say. That was my cue that you needed to talk. Hours and hours of talking.

It was clear you were hurting, you never hid it from me. Break-ups hurt. And your loyal heart was so severely broken.

I knew you could heal from this. I never doubted you’d come out on the other side stronger. I saw a new, healthy beginning for you…once you were ready to embrace it.

I encouraged you, “It won’t feel this way forever.” But you couldn’t imagine it.

You were trying to find peace with the pain you experienced. You were trying to reconcile your regrets. You were trying to find hope in the future. You were trying to find yourself again.

If only I could have helped you see the truth in all I tried to share. How deeply you are loved. How in time, healing would in-fact come. How starting over was doable. Life could be good again.

I knew it. You didn’t.

I tried to remind you that you were good. Kind. Funny. Smart. Wanted. Needed. Mine.

Oh, if only you had found the value in yourself that is so painfully obvious to me.

If only I could have been successful in getting through. But my loving voice was like a whisper in contrast to the shouts of the hateful voice that had commandeered your thoughts.

If only your searching led you to truth instead of lies.

You never did find yourself.

You could have…but you gave up looking. You quit.

So…I found you instead. Lifeless. Gone.

I found you because you couldn’t find yourself.