The wound is open, gaping like a door open for all the world to see. But the world doesn’t see because I smile. I smile to hide the emptiness that fills that hole, the void left a crater on the ground. But the ground feels no loss because it’s tough and solid. My heart sliced in five, one piece for each child. Four now adults while one stays forever a child playing in God’s garden. The heart soft as putty in the window fitters hand flutters when the ears hear a child call, Mammy. Even after all these years and knowing their adult’s, tears threaten to tumble because of a secret longing which lies deeply hidden in public.
A longing so strong that it’s stronger than any tsunami to hit this earth. A longing to feel arms around me, not just any arms but their arms. The arms which stretched for me from when they were small with trusting eyes. Arms which wrapped around me even as we all slept. The hands which mimed mine in actions throughout the day in the kitchen or garden, cleaning, baking, planting or reaping.
The heart pulses life through this weary body which just occupies space, space which is filled with memories. Memories which act as plasters but don’t hold the gaping hole together because it’s someone’s birthday or Christmas and emotions threaten to send tears flowing. Memories of life with them, Them who are loved so much, loved unconditionally. Loved with each and every beat of this divided heart and breath I take.
They say time will heal things but time won’t heal this wound.