Letter to a Lost Daughter

Dear Cathy,
Today is your birthday and I had hoped to see you. I don’t have a way to call you, and although I think you may have tried to call me during the last week, we did not connect. I have checked my phone messages and heard the line go dead on the recording. I think it is you. And I feel such pain that I have not been there for you. I don’t always feel so bad that I have not been what you needed and where you needed me, but tonight you are heavy in my heart. I love you and miss you and even though I hardly know you, you are my child, my loved one, my little girl. I want to tell you about your family, about your brothers and their wives and children. Recently I was sorting through old pictures and giving them to Alan and Robert and William. There you were, right in the middle of them, your little face so bright and perky, your firm, sweet body. Your hair was short and wispy in some of the pictures, and lifted in a pony tail in others. Your nose in profile, your feet and legs, your clear eyes shining. I love them all. Yet they are like a distant dream. Now you are thirty-eight years old. A different person. Still, that little girl must be in there somewhere. There is a little girl in me. I know there must be in you.

Tonight, Cathy, I send you an invocation. I call on all those who have gone before us, your grandmommy and granddaddy, your granny. Let them find you and touch you so you will not feel so alone. Know that their blood is in your blood, their strength is your strength, their energy can be your energy. I call on those who are in your community, your world now, those who give you meals and shelter, those who notice you are troubled and confused and want to help, those who are concerned for you because you are in that crowd of lost people, and those who are concerned for you simply because you exist. I call on our Heavenly Father and our Holy Mother. They know who we are and where we are. They are waiting for us to be in this moment of love with them. Stand still one moment, Cathy. Stand still and listen. Let their love voices come into your awareness. Their voices are warm and quiet. They are loving you. I am loving you. I am being in this moment with you. Can you hear them? Can you feel me? I am here for you and wait for your call. Love, Mom

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