Another Layout Inspired by the Nostalgia Emotion
(March 2010) at Scrapbooking from the Inside Out
Two years ago today, a piece of my heart went missing. Like a puff of smoke, it went *poof* and disappeared. This piece of my heart had already been bruised and wounded and torn and bleeding and put back together and beat up once again. But on this day, two years ago, it just disappeared.
She is our eldest daughter.
Death did not take her. Abduction was not the cause. HER heart and HER mind decided that HER life would no longer be a part of ours. She went her own way. Without another word, without another gesture, she just… left. She left her father. She left her younger brother. She left her little sister. She left me. She also chose to leave grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins who also care so very much about her.
Two years ago today, we made difficult choices of our own. We requested a change of heart on her part. We pleaded for honesty. We asked that she move home and let us have the chance to help her. We were denied. So we changed our lives...out of necessity, not retaliation.
Two years ago today, I lost one of my best friends… one of the people with whom I loved to share conversations, adventures and dreams. I lost someone who was beautiful to look at and watch grow; someone who had interesting thoughts and opinions. I lost someone who I thought had a beautiful, honest heart and a sensible mind. I found out otherwise, in very hard, sad and depressing ways. Her choices are not mine. Would never be mine. She is not of my blood, and my time in her life is merely one-half of the time she has lived. But I had hoped for more… more time, more influence… both ways. I may have been her third mother, but she was, and will always be, my first daughter.
My mother died of cancer and left me behind. She didn’t have a choice. Two years ago today, my eldest daughter chose to leave me…us…behind – just because. That is, in so many ways, more painful than my mother’s death.
Two years ago today, I was so very angry. So very hurt. So very broken.
Today, I’m simply a little sad – and a lot numb.
I still miss her.
Tomorrow is her 23rd birthday. Happy Birthday, dear daughter. From the bottom of my heart, wherever you are, Happy Birthday.