I wish we could have made it work. I think I wanted it more than you—maybe that’s because I knew exactly what was at stake if it all fell apart
When it ended, it ended badly. My heart is broken. Is yours? Do you think about me like I think about you? I wonder where you are, what you are doing, and who you are with. I’m so scared here without you.
You won’t believe me when I say this to you, but I only want your happiness. I want bliss and joy and a lifetime full of love for you. I pray you will find someone who will cherish you and give you all the things that you so deserve. Your life hasn’t been easy. Some of that is because of me, some of it is because, well, life. We can’t control what comes at us—we can only control how we react to it. Given the chance, I know I would do things differently. I know you hate it when I say this, but I can’t unring the bell. I can’t. It’s agony to go back and try and figure out exactly the moment it started to go bad. Had we both stopped right then and there—would we be here today? I wish . . . I wish . . . oh how I am beginning to hate the word. It’s empty and futile. Wishing for something doesn’t make it happen. If that were the case, we would both be in the same place right now. Or at least not so far apart.
I never told you enough what a beautiful person you are. How special and giving and loving you are. You are an amazing human being. You have so much to offer to the world. I pray you get the chance to do all the things you want to do. Don’t let me—or anyone else—tell you any different.
I’m so scared. Are you cold? Hungry? Safe? I’m paralyzed with the fear that I’ll never see you again. Never hold you. Never tell you all the things I want to tell you. I hope I get another chance to try and make it better.
My friends tell me that it’s out of my hands. That I’ve done everything I can do. They tell me to pray. I feel guilty praying. I feel like a hypocrite. I don’t pray when things are happy and wonderful so I feel bad asking for help when things are going dark. They tell me God listens. So I pray. It helps. My heart isn’t so heavy. The cross is easier to bear.
You need to know how thankful I am that you came into my life. Such an amazing and beautiful day. I remember everything about it—especially the moment I saw your face. Perfect, beautiful, sweet. I swear you smiled at me even though everyone said that babies don’t smile. You did. You are and always will be, my sunshine girl.
I will go to bed tonight wondering where you are and if you are okay. I will keep you close in my heart and ask God to watch over you. I pray you will find your way—not only back to me, but to a place where you can find peace and joy.
I love you, Emily. You are my light. Please come home.
Always,
Mom
