Today as I listen to the excellent and sonically pleasing new record from Björk, I find my heart open and raw, fresh from a third uncomfortable conversation with my mother. The last conversation ending with her walking away from the phone wailing in absolute pain. It breaks my heart, the situation, two people who love each other unable to get past their defenses, unable to speak the same language, neither intending pain. Each attempt it seems to speak drives us farther apart.
I admire my mother, her strength, her kindness, her gentle heart. I only wish she could hear me, truly hear me. I only wish she could see me, truly see me. After almost a month of not speaking I find myself back at a place where I feel we cannot speak. It saddens me to my core. I wish her peace in her heart as I wish the same for my self. Can we look eye to eye without defenses and speak? I don't know the answer. It has never been possible and perhaps a desire for something real beyond empty conversations about the weather are all there is for us to share. Is that enough? Is it enough to just know someone loves you but does not respect your life, your love, who you really are? Is it enough to be loved partially by a parent who should love you fully?
I think of my friends who have lost parents. Do I take what I have for granted by trying to make its broken parts work? Should I just be happy for what I have, however dysfunctional it is? Do I just accept that it will never be something that equals what I want the relationship to be? These are the questions that turn inside of me. I am human and I feel pain. She is human and she feels pain. We love each other and yet we hurt each other.