Lavenderosy

Today, my heart feels heavy.
I find myself missing my mother.

She is no longer physically with me, yet her presence surrounds me in ways words cannot fully explain. I still feel her—in my thoughts, in my habits, in the way I respond to life. It is as if she never truly left.

The pain she went through lives quietly in my heart. I often wonder whether all the suffering she endured was something she truly deserved or not. But if anyone ever asks me to judge her life or her choices, my answer will always be no. I will not allow that.

Because I saw her.
I observed her closely.
I understood her—not just as a mother, but as a human being.

She carried an emotional depth that very few people could recognize. Every child loves their mother, but only a few children truly notice their mother’s pain, and even fewer are able to understand it. I was one of them.

I watched her carefully.
I learned from her silence.
I understood the meaning behind her actions and the weight behind her words.

Even today, in almost every situation, I know exactly what she would have done or how she would have thought if she were here. Her presence still guides me.

Someday, when I find the strength, I will share her story with you—the story no one really knows. A story that even after being heard, few could truly understand. The pain, the suffocation, the emotional loneliness that I could not remove from her heart, even though I was her daughter.

Her last moments stay with me.
I watched her slowly drift away from me, and I could do nothing. Sometimes, it feels as though I remained silent on purpose. As if I could have saved her. As if I could have healed her.

But I couldn’t.

Even today, whenever I remember her, a deep heaviness rises within me. My chest feels tight. The same questions repeat themselves—
Why did I let her go?
Why couldn’t I do more?

Without her, my heart feels empty. Nothing feels joyful anymore. Nothing excites me the way it used to. All my passions seem to have left with her.

And yet, perhaps this is how she chose to stay—
Within me.
In my sensitivity.
In my way of thinking.
In my silence.

These words come from observation, not opinion—from what life has shown me closely.

-Written by Dolly

I write about life, healing, beauty, and quiet moments.
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