Kids love full houses. Voices. And people. And playing. Laughing. Games and big tables. Snacks and treats.
Maybe it’s the hardest part. The one that says, on a daily basis, it’s just the two of us.
Just him and me.
And seeing him missing something. The people. The voices. The fun. The funny part of life. Missing his friends as soon as we are back home. Missing his grand-parents as soon as they are back home.
When I feel down, I feel guilty.
But some days are good. Some days are even great fun. Just the two of us.
But I know he is in need of something more. So we go out. And spend days with family. And we meet people. And I try not to feel blue too often, or at least leave the blues for later. When he is in bed. And I remember the chance we have to be where we are.
I am learning that her story is not mine
It’s not the easiest part It is a path of love and acceptance
Of what was
And what is
Of her feelings
And her pain
I felt angry at times
When I was younger
Hearing that she’d rather like to die
It is no lie
I thought cancer would change her
Make her feel more aware of the beauty around
And the past would go
Would let her breath in peace
And live without shadows
But it’s not my story
I have no power
It’s not about me
All the love I have can’t change the deal
The past is engraved
In every cell of her body
I am learning to love her as she is
With her memories
Her idea that life is just a messy road
Trying to protect me
When she says she’d rather like death
Knowing that it’s not against me
It’s just the only space
That could set her free
There was a time when I was full of anger and guilt.
Then I learnt about forgiveness. I looked behind and realized that the people who love me did the best they could with what they had at a special time.
They made amends. They acknowledged that they made mistakes, out of fear most of the time
I was afraid I could never go beyond what they thought was good for me. I was afraid to deceive them if I took a special road – afraid not to be able to trust my choice in front of them, disagreeing with it. And if I was to fail, afraid that they would come to me saying “we knew you would not make it”.
Then I forgave them. And started moving away slowly, very slowly from a place where pleasing others was my rule number one, where approval was key to a place where I started listening to my own voice.
I am less influenced by what they may think is right or wrong. I am learning to think by myself, for myself. I am more confident too.
And with forgiveness came love, a love that accepts them as they are. Without wishing them to believe what I believe, without asking them to understand my choices either. If they do it’s a must of course!
When I was a little girl, I was a dreamer. I would spent hours looking outside , creating stories, building up spaces that talk to me, of a world that would enhance beauty, joy, peace, love. Teachers did not like it. I was too slow. I was too shy. I was too much of this and not enough of that.
When I was a little girl, I would talk out loud. Not to myself. To angels and people around that nobody could see but me. People didn’t like it. They thought others would say I’m crazy or something like this. They wanted me to stop acting weird.
When I was a little girl, I had dreams. I wanted to care for others. I wanted to help, guide, and heal. They looked at me like it wasn’t what would give me what I needed to feed a family. They told me to go for something else; I listened to them and I am now stuck in a job that pays the rent and makes everybody else happy but me.
I don’t know it all.
But I don’t want you to think that you are limited, that some places, some dreams are not for you. I don’t want you to say that you are not good enough, that you are an idiot. You are not. You are great and precious.
I don’t want you to believe that others know the truth. They don’t. There is not one truth. We all have ours. There is not one way. But plenty.
I don’t know it all.
But I’ll do my best to be always here for you, to trust you, to guide you and to be with you whatever road you choose to walk.
I like days spent at the park just outside home. Kids playing. I love watching them.
I remember the first time we came here, his first steps on this ground. He would not let go of my hand. He’d rather like me to go down the slide with him, make sandcastles and build games with leaves and chestnuts.
Now as soon as we step inside this space, he is running towards his friends. If nobody is there, he’s confident enough to play on his own or make new friends.
When I stop and take the time to look at him, I breath in the knowledge that we found her balance by walking at our own pace.
We spent time together. He spent time with his friends. He made new ones and let some others go.
We let time flow without wishing to hold it, like we tend to do the rest of the year, fearing to lose it doing nothing of interest, feeling trapped in hours that go too quickly before we know it.
Holidays are the time we needed. For us. For us a a family.
It’s tough sometime to be just of the two of us. Some days are hard for him I know. He told me so. He would like more people around. He would like to live with noise and mess, laughs, toys scattered all around the place, diners with many stories to be told.
But we ought to do with the cards we have in hands. I don’t wish to live with “if”. We are building relationships on strong basis and we are always happy to do things together. Most of the time, we’ll do our best. For the rest, we’ll go with the flow…