Motherless daughters

The Card by Nancy Malcolm

~ Nancy Malcolm ~ 1 Comment

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I have very few things of my mother’s.  I know there wasn’t a lot but I also know my Daddy never wanted to let go of what he did save.  One of my most cherished possessions is a little birthday card my mother sent her mother in 1943.  Auntie Sue had found it in my Grandmother’s Bible and kept it all these years…for me.

This little card is sweet and simple.  She had written a letter and tucked it inside.  The letter was newsy and cheerful and mainly talked about her day.  When I first opened this precious card, I was struck instantly with tears and tenderness, for you see, this was the first time I had seen my mother’s handwriting.  I was mesmerized by the slant and curve of each graceful word.

“You’re the sweetest, best mother any girl could ever have.  I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have you.”  Love,  Sis

The blessings from this little card are profound and ongoing.  I now know her handwriting and have something she actually touched.  But, I also know how she felt about her own mother.  The love, respect and gratitude she expressed affects me deeply, and gives me more insight into her soul.

I would like to think that I would have written those same words to my mother if I had been given the chance.

“You’re the sweetest, best mother any girl could ever have.  I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have youl.”  Love, Nancy

Dear Motherless Daughter

~ Nancy Malcolm ~ 4 Comments

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Nothing and no one can replace my mother.  I’ve lived 59 years without her and I know this to be true for me.  Nothing and no one.

A lot of people tried to comfort me by saying, “But, you had your father, your brother and a family of your own.”  That is also true, however, I had all those people and I still didn’t have a mother.  While I cannot speak for all motherless daughters, I can say for myself that not having a mother has affected me in every area of my life and the years have not erased the deep need I have for a mother, my mother.

Every true friend I have had, every man I have loved has known this fact about me.  There are plenty of others who don’t know that I am motherless and have assumed that I have “it all” and don’t know the meaning of loss or adversity.  To this I would say two things:  1.)  don’t assume you know everything about anybody and 2.)  if  you didn’t know this about me, then I might not have felt safe enough to tell you.

I have said these words a million times, “My mother died when I was four years old.”  But, it’s what I haven’t said that tells you the deeper meaning.  When my grandson was four years old, I looked at him and wondered to myself  how I ever lived with such loss.  Four is such a tender age, and to think of a soul wounding at that age and continuing to live until now at 63, is nothing short of a miracle.

I know my words may make you uncomfortable, downright uneasy, but what is buried alive never dies.  Put another way, I have to speak out, tell the world what it is like for us, the walking wounded.  I am sorry if my story makes you sad or my descriptions seem too harsh.  “Let it go”, you might be thinking, “Time heals all wounds, ” but to you I will say that we all have some places in our  hearts that need healing.  Look inward, take what you like and leave the rest.

My fellow motherless children, (you know who you are), you are not alone.  Keep reading.  At least I hope you do, for there is a language we know; a knowledge we have that unites us in kinship.  We share something that bonds us into eternity and gives us hope that someday…that hole will be filled up…..to the top.  We all take a different path to find our healing.  The balm of time may heal the wound, but the scar never quite disappears.  We are forever changed.