The stench of the silence is what angers me the most. The void that is left deep within your soul and it seems like no matter how much you try to prepare you never truly are. Closest thing that I can thing of is having a baby, but I lost my baby. I was supposed to take care of you when you got old, at least that's what you told little me. This grief has brought about a sense of anger that worries me. It's the type of anger that calms me, the type of anger that would have the audacity to control me. But daddy can I ask you a serious question? I don't want to know why you left, this earth ghetto as hell and I get your heart was broken in ways we weren't exposed too.. But why did you go by yourself? Why wouldn't you want someone there to go down that journey with you? You were loved by so many in ways I don' t think you understand...Why you have to leave alone, was that the place you were mentally in? I just wish we could've talked one last time. To hear your voice and your laugh, I would've never imagined that I would have to open up the box of memories in order for you to be here with me.
I never understood how people could fall apart in the midst of a process so beautiful, but I now know how. I can feel my heart breaking in a way that I will never be able to explain. I am proud of you daddy, you loved me the best you knew how and I couldn't ask for a better father. You gave up parts of your life and you worked on parts of yourself more in depth for me. You treated me the best you knew how without disrupting the demons laying dormant deep inside you. I hope you don't think I don't love you, because I love you so much that it angered me you didn't reach your greatest possible potential. You taught me so much, those things I took for granted just based on the perspective that I had. I wanted and needed your love to look a certain way in order for it to be validated in my mind. But I want to let you know that I appreciate all that was done, all that was sacrificed, and all that you taught me. I just hope you could feel the love my heart had for you until the day you transitioned out of here. I hope you can feel the way I am trying to hold myself together. I never had my heart broken like this before daddy and I don't know how to deal with it. I just know that I can't fall, I can't hit a rock bottom, I got people depending on me to still show up. It's just like what the f..
I don't know how to disperse the anger deep inside. My mind is not the common kind. It's not one that you want to leave lingering with anything. My soul is complex and is made up of many generations of all kinds of individuals, how to I still maintain control? I wish I could blame some body, I wish I could have a target.. But I don't know where to go, because you left in a way that left us all with unanswered questions. You know what this shit has taught me? It has taught me that you can never be too stubborn to speak up when you need help. To let your ego die. Ego truly is the death of man. You had people that needed you, your kids needed.. need you. I am angry, angry beyond my comprehension and that is what bothers me the most. I feel like you would expect more from me but I could quite frankly give to shakes and a jump less.. but I just know its not safe.. But its a silent grip... because one day, one moment I am fine... Next thing I know I am deep in thought reminiscing on the moments we shared and wondering how was your final moments out of here.
You can never know when you will spend your last moments on this earth but I can say we can be prepared by not living in fear. I was at peace with how things turned out in life in regards to you and I. I wish I would've had a sense of fear behind you leaving so I would've tried a little harder. I would've saved you. That's all I ever wanted to do, was ease the pain that you carried deep down in your heart. I thought it would cause you to love me better. I wanted you to be the bestest thing that I had in the world. I wanted my daddy to be my bestfriend. Nobody could say nothing about my daddy you were the greatest to me. Then I began to envy the way that you exuded love to others more than you did to me, when all I wanted was you to be happy and for it to just be us. I wish I could've been there when you tranferred. I wish I could've been there to let you know that you are not alone. I wish you could've heard "I love you" one more time. I am angry and I don't know what to do daddy, you didn't prepare me for a life completely without you.
If you decide to come back, come back somewhere close to me so I can love you like I know you desired too. I will love you the way your mother would have loved you. But this time around it will be in a greater way that is based on healing and wisdom gained through ancient timelines. I will give you a different view to this thing we call life. You will live with ease, just like you tried to give to me.
Until we meet again , I see you when I see the sun. Come hug me soon my love.
About the Creator
Mother Amaru
Raw, Unfiltered and Eloquently made.
I am the wilted rose that grew into a sunflower.
#PurposePrevails #EyeGive #EyeCreate #EyeGrow
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The Pain of Parenthood
Sometimes I wish I could do it all over again. I sit and I recollect on the events in my life that lead up to my child being born, I sit and I ponder about how I had the opportunity to do things the right way but chose the wrong way, therefore leading to my child being born into dysfunction. I often find myself being caught up in my shortcomings due to the fact I know I’m capable of so much more. I am grateful to have made it out of my teens with no children, but very much so disappointed in the fact I still had my child young. No one can prepare you for motherhood, not even yourself. This is because you are going through something you have never experienced before in your life. In my opinion, no matter how much you read, listen to stories, and even help with small children, motherhood is just one thing you cant prepare for. When I say this I mean, when you go to have your first child there is nothing you can do to truly prepare yourself. You don’t know what to expect because you have never been through it. How can you prepare yourself for pain you never experienced? That’s the most troubling thing about motherhood for me, the pain this beautiful thing brings you. I expected motherhood and pregnancy to have been this beautiful and exciting event. It was the complete opposite of that in my case, so I often find myself looking at my child in a skewed view. I dont hate my child, I don't resent my child, but I do wish I would have waited. Looking back now, I wish I would have followed my spirit. I know matter of fact my life would have been better, which in turn would have made theirs better as well. I find it ironic because you would never know I feel this way due to the fact my child is loved and they exemplify this in every way imaginable. But I often sit and think about the traumatic pregnancy I endured and the struggles we currently face. I can’t go and grind like I used too due to the fact I now have another human being to look after. That’s annoying as hell. Then I have to sit and calculate down to the minute on how many hours I need to work in order to have the basics covered, you can forget about anything “extra”. I hate that I even put myself in this boat, I know it can be made out of but why on earth did I do this in the first place. It was selfish as hell if you ask me, but it is so crazy because my child needs for nothing. They have been covered and taken care of since before they entered this realm. But I am so hard on myself due to the fact I know I am capable of more. So, the feeling of regret, loneliness, and anger are all normal in this journey of motherhood. I just wish I could have done things better, I never wanted my child to have to experience any type of struggle. I never wanted them to experience any kind of pain due to their circumstances, I wanted my children to grow up living a Huxtable type lifestyle. That’s what they deserve and only if I wouldn’t have been so selfish. But I also too have to give myself credit for the fact that my child is loved and very well taken care of. I do my best with what is provided to me. I just know I could be so much more and do way better than what I am currently doing. I said all this to say the emotional rollercoaster you feel with motherhood is normal. The good, the bad and the downright ugly, it’s all normal. Remind yourself you’re doing the best you can and that if you could do more you know you would, but this is all you have for the moment. Be kind to yourself for you are the CEO of a non stop business (your children and household are the business here) and you are a multifaceted woman. Only worry about what you can control and let the rest go. For mothers are phenomenal women who truly aren’t credited enough if you ask me. Love yourself a little extra and be gentle.
By Mother Amaru 5 years ago in Families
Celebrating Mother's Day When Your Mom Has Passed Away
Losing Your Mom If you have lost your mom, it's difficult enough, but it's even harder when her special day comes around. I know how it feels. I lost my mother. The first year was the worst. I remember how lost I felt. I just couldn't understand why she had to die when so many other people I knew still had their mothers.
By Janis Masyk-Jackson9 days ago in Families
The Call He Ignored
Sameer had always dreamed of living a big life. Growing up in a small town, he watched his father work long hours as a mechanic and his mother manage the home with limited resources. They sacrificed everything to give Sameer a good education. “Study hard, beta,” his mother would say, gently placing food on his plate. “One day, your life will be better than ours.” Sameer believed her. He worked hard, earned a scholarship, and eventually moved to the city for a high-paying job. It was everything he had hoped for—tall buildings, a modern office, and a lifestyle he once only imagined. At first, he called his parents every day. “Ammi, I got my first salary!” he said excitedly. His mother’s voice filled with joy. “I’m so proud of you, beta.” His father simply said, “Take care of yourself. Don’t forget where you came from.” But as time passed, things began to change. Sameer got busier. Meetings, deadlines, and social events took over his schedule. His phone would ring, and he would glance at the screen—Ammi Calling. “I’ll call her later,” he would think. But later often never came. Days turned into weeks. His mother still called him regularly, her voice always warm and loving. “Beta, khana time par khana,” she would remind him. “Yes, Ammi, I’m fine,” Sameer would reply quickly, often trying to end the call. Sometimes, he wouldn’t pick up at all. His father rarely called, but when he did, it was usually brief. “Everything okay?” “Yes, Abba, just busy.” “Alright. Stay well.” Sameer didn’t notice the slight pause before his father ended the calls. One evening, Sameer was at a party with his colleagues. Loud music filled the room, and laughter echoed around him. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked it. Ammi Calling. He frowned slightly. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” he muttered, putting the phone back. The call stopped. A few seconds later, it rang again. Sameer sighed, feeling slightly annoyed. “Why does she keep calling?” he said to himself. Without thinking much, he silenced the phone. That night, he returned home late and fell asleep without checking his messages. The next morning, as he got ready for work, he noticed several missed calls—from his mother’s number and an unknown number. A strange feeling crept into his chest. He quickly called back. A man answered. His voice was unfamiliar. “Are you Sameer?” “Yes… who is this?” “I’m your neighbor. Your mother… she was very unwell last night. We tried calling you many times.” Sameer’s heart started pounding. “Where is she now?” There was a brief silence. “I’m sorry… she passed away early this morning.” The world around Sameer went silent. The phone slipped from his hand. “No… no, this can’t be true,” he whispered, his voice shaking. He rushed back to his hometown, his mind replaying everything—the missed calls, the ignored messages, his mother’s voice. When he entered the house, the atmosphere was heavy with grief. Relatives sat quietly. His father was in the corner, looking older than Sameer had ever seen him. Sameer walked slowly toward his mother’s room. She lay still, her face calm, as if she were sleeping. Tears streamed down his face. “Ammi… I’m here,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry… I didn’t pick up your call.” But there was no response. He fell to his knees, overwhelmed with guilt. Later, his father handed him Sameer’s phone. “She tried calling you many times,” he said quietly. “She wanted to hear your voice.” Sameer couldn’t hold back his tears. “Why didn’t you tell me she was sick?” he asked. His father looked at him with tired eyes. “She didn’t want to disturb you. She always said, ‘My son is busy building his future.’” Those words pierced Sameer’s heart. In that moment, he realized the painful truth—he had been so busy chasing success that he forgot the people who made it possible. Days passed, but the regret stayed. Sameer returned to the city, but nothing felt the same. The office, the parties, the busy life—all of it felt empty. He started calling his father every day. “Abba, how are you?” “I’m fine, beta,” his father would reply, though his voice carried loneliness. Sameer visited home more often now. He sat with his father, helped around the house, and tried to fill the silence his mother had left behind. But deep inside, he knew one thing would never change—he would never get the chance to answer his mother’s last call. One evening, as he sat alone, he looked at his phone and whispered, “I would give everything… just to hear your voice one more time, Ammi.”
By Salman khan5 days ago in Families
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