How To Love A Woman Who Has Lost Her Mother

We are easily identifiable even amid thousands.

Can you find the woman who is smiling with her eyes glittering and making everyone around her happy and comfortable?

Can you see the woman who exudes confidence effortlessly and seems to know everything that matters?

Can you find her, the one who lends her shoulder to anyone in distress and offers support to anyone who needs it?

Are you able to spot her? Dive into her eyes beyond the shining pupils, the vivid colors that bewitch you and even beyond the open expression? In the depths of her soul you will find her true feelings.

You will know the grief and melancholy, the darkness and gloom that lie beneath. The need for a tight hug and warmth will be visible for she is suffering from a loss that has left a deep hole in her heart and soul.

Inside the outer shell you will find a lonely little girl stricken by sorrow screaming to be cuddled, to be loved, and doted upon.  She is struggling miserably to have her hair stroked again to be held and consoled. She is lost in the meandering roads of life looking for her identity. She seems to have lost her direction and needs approval for every little thing.

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She has lost sight of that guiding light that told her how to be a woman and a mother. She is, in fact, looking for her own mother, the guiding star of her life. The one who was supposed to protect her, and show her the difference between right and wrong. The woman who gave her a lifetime of knowledge and taught her everything from baking apple pies to write and sing. This light that shone brightly on her life’s path is now no more.

There is an empty feeling of loneliness experienced by motherless daughters. This feeling cannot be overcome by anybody or anything be it a man, a friend, a hobby, or work.

There is continuous search for something to hold on to that will help us fight this unending grief and pain. It does not go away.  It keeps hitting us like waves. There are too many happy memories, too many life lessons learned from that woman who was like that big oak tree whose branches covered her children under her loving and protective shadow.

That letter she wrote with words soaked in deep affection, that little Christmas ornament she taught us to make, the pictures of her in the family album take us back again and again to the glorious days when she was there, remind us of the fact that she is no longer there.

There is this utter need to have someone in life that will care for us and hold our hands tight. We want someone to give us the strength to fight this loss, which feels the hardest battle that life can expose us to, and not deepen it.

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