Listen Now
Mother’s Day is a 100-year-old tradition in the United States. There are other countries that have a day to celebrate motherhood, but others don’t. For the most part it’s a good holiday. But for some people, it can stir up hurting emotions.
This article talks about some tough feelings surrounding one woman’s experience and the reactions, or non-reaction, of her children.
Maybe you will identify with her, and while we’re sorry that your life’s problems would be like that, maybe it helps to know there are others and you can get through it.
Maybe you will identify with her children. Will you take a minute to try and understand her side and begin the process of forgiveness?
One way Reach UP helps women is to bring tough issues out in the open and point you in the direction of help and change. We don’t want you to be the same.
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Today is Mother’s Day.
I have given birth — no, I was cut open like an animal so that hands could be placed inside of me to withdraw a child. My body was unable to give birth the normal way. Perhaps that was a sign that I should never have had a child. Who knows?
Three times this has happened, and such beautiful babies, so pretty, so healthy, and my God, so full of life!
Tony, Norman, Brionna . . . Today my heart grieves for them. Please, one of you just call. I have a side in this tragic saga. Does even one of you wish to hear it?
Not one of the three has any association with me. It’s as if I were a leper. There was a storm last night. The thunder clapped, the lightning flashed across the sky, the wind howled, and the trees bent under its fierce pressure, a tornado warning in the area, an eerie silence about. These are the exact feelings in my heart and head.
If I should live until tomorrow, I will be once again reminded of my failure and my destruction of humans who deserved so much more. Crashing limbs and brokenness, just like that between me and mine. That awful silence between us. God, I have never known peace. Don’t let that happen to my children, please.
Look at the hate and anger in Brionna’s eyes, because I wasn’t there. Yes, I often wonder what they went through while I was away.
I’m sure that their hearts hurt also, because each of them is so very bitter when it comes to me. It’s been like this every year since they were born. The tears are falling just like the rain outside. There is no electricity, sirens are blaring, and airplanes are flying overhead. The night has passed. Birds are chirping in their language, perhaps saying “Happy Mother’s Day” too.
The many years spent in prison, always looking forward to reuniting with my children; please don’t slam that door shut . . . please. When I look into your eyes, I see only contempt, hate and a strange pain. You are unforgiving and unwilling to try.
Death is looking real good, but you may need me. Hey, I can’t penetrate this thick fortress that you’ve built. You must know that I did the same toward my parents, and my life has been a living hell.
Please don’t make my mistakes! Rise above your hurt and pain and frustrations and hate for me. In order to live your lives, you each must forgive. That’s the only way.
Every move that I have made toward you all since I have been free has been wrong in your sight. But I know that you can’t live in this world and not respect others. And I know that it would be so wrong for me to sit by and watch you self-destruct.
Don’t you realize that I have spent a total of twenty-seven years in confinement? I was driven by hate and my payback was self-destruction. History has been known to repeat itself. Not only was I in a physical prison, but a mental one as well.
God’s intervention has allowed me true freedom. This has just recently happened. My life is been like a scene in the fable of the “Beauty and the Beast,” only reversed.
I wasn’t stupid enough to think that after a lifetime of no Eloise, just like magic – it would all be made right. But what I did envision was that one of you would have the will to help the others try. It has been three years since I came back. I am confused and my light of hope is dimming.
This has hit like a trillion volts of electricity while I stand in water trying to hold on. Please let me do what my mother couldn’t: Let me hold you in my arms as I do in my heart. Let me reassure you that I will leave again only in death. And if I can wait for you on the other side, I will [do my best to] reserve for each one of you a seat.
Please know that all the mistakes were mine. I am so sorry. I do love each one of you with all my heart. There has not been a day since any of you was born that I wasn’t with you in my mind. You do not have to love me; just forgive me, so you can live. Let me give you the comfort that only a mother can give.
Finally — Mothers’ Day is reaching its end.
Tomorrow I must perform as a normal person. I will lay my burdens to rest until the next time. Good night.
Daniel, Eloise (2010-10-13). Amongst the Ruins (pp. 168-172). Metier Books. Kindle Edition.
You can find this article and more in Reach Up Edition: Spring 2016
