I remember after my first visit with my own mother.

As I drove back home after my first visit with my own Mama. My youngest daughter strapped into her seat? Heading home. I should have been happy. But a nagging pain nagged on me. And I cried the whole way home. Sobbing.

I asked the Lord why? Why am I crying? And the message that came was dear child your finally grieving. And now as I’m drawn back to those days I see I began to unravel and fall apart. I grappled. My Mama? Oblivious. Treating me so frivolously? She didn’t seem to give a shit? She appeared to have no remorses. Trained my sisters they were the only ones of importance.

It’s not easy facing the truth. All I wanted was to have a chance to know her. Oh. I know her now. So what do I do with that? Take to the air and confess. It’s all. Her response does not matter. What matters was for me to find healing at any cost. Even if not meant I loose everything. Again.

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