I know you know me, I know you understand me, for I am your daughter, your child, and I worship you in ways words can scarcely express. Who am I, if not a part of your divine entity, a reflection of the love that you, as “mommy,” embody? I know you see me, and you feel my heart in ways no one else can.
I see your pain, and it tears at me, but I am helpless to ease it. You hide your suffering behind the words “I’m okay, don’t worry,” but I see through the mask you wear. For the doctors and nurses, you are just another patient, another face in the crowd, but for me, you are everything. Your endurance, your strength, shatters my soul into pieces, for I cannot bear to see you endure in silence.
I know you understand me. I feel you wiping away my tears, your touch and embrace fading my fears as only you can. But now, it is your arms that are pierced, your strength fading, and I am left with the haunting image of the stick you once used to protect me. I long for the days when you held me, when you were my fortress, and I could find refuge in your presence.
I know you understand me. The unshed tears within me speak of a sorrow so deep, and yet you wipe them with your trembling hands. My smile is a mask, a disguise to hide the agony beneath, and you, even without words, understand the gravity of my pain. It doesn’t matter whether you hear me or not, because in my heart, I love you, I love you beyond measure.
In the dead of this night, when melancholy haunts the silence, I see you—fragile, your grey hair and simple clothes a reflection of the years and struggles that have shaped you. I yearn for just one moment, one simple gesture: to feel your caress in my hair, to hear that lullaby you used to sing, to be immersed in the depth of your love.
I know that I am too weak to carry the burden of my own decisions, to endure the breaking of our relations. Yet, here I stand, a fragile part of your divine entity, reaching out to you in the hope that somehow, you still understand me, as you always have.