Where is my Balm of Gilead?


Dr. Ms. Feverfew –

Any healing that might have been gifted me seems to have been blown away with the blustery March winds. This time of year is always so difficult for me…it marks the anniversary of your passing from my life, of my relinquishing you for adoption. I find myself not looking at calendars, pretending that if I don’t know what day it is, somehow it will be easier. Unfortunately, a mother can never forget…she doesn’t need calendars or clocks to remind her of the years since her beloved child slipped from her fingers.

This mourning is so paradoxical because I did this. I did this to you. I did this to me. I did this to us. And I can’t seem to forgive myself. I thought what I was doing was so right, but now I know it was so wrong. Each year these feelings get worse, compounded, magnified. It’s a long, painful triage that seems to have no end.

With as much love as this broken heart can gather up today –

M.

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