Fragments

I miss you Mom
who you were –so strong and stoic, so smart.

You always did see in black and white.
You dug your beliefs into the pavement.

You were always so soft spoken, so kind.
You were my safe place, my unconditional love.

You never asked for anything,
never expected greatness, only compassion.
You re-defined success to be perseverance.

I miss you.
I look for you in glances, or a soft word spoken.
You grant me fragments of who you used to be…
I hold onto them like tiny treasures and place them gently on pieces of paper.
I sketch in the outline of who you once were.
So I can look at you whole again.
Feel you around me again.
So I can feel safe again.

And I can’t show you my pain because I know that you suffer.
And you only see a small part of me.
There is no mother daughter connection.
Our bridge has broken.

We say the words, “I love you”.
But they may as well be the words, “I don’t know you”.
Because I can’t share my life with you - can’t share myself.
I am no longer three dimensional.
I am a card board cut out of a person that you recognize,
trying to sell you hope out of an empty briefcase.

And when my despair feels so engulfing,
my instinct is to run to your door.
But I can’t find you.
All I have is this sketch of you that I drew –
based on a fragment.


- M.E. Johansson