"Momma, why can't you love me?"

Mother and I have not spoken for two years. May of 2021 will be the 3 year anniversary of our failure to communicate. As my best friend recently lost her mother, and countless others die from Covid-19, I am reminded of the inability to know how my mother is doing. It doesn't matter anymore why we haven't communicated. I just believe it is important to be connected during such a dark and unprecedented time in our society.

Fault is a tricky thing - not to be confused with taking responsibility. Whatever my mother believes about me and our inability to jive is her reality. We come from two different eras in life and we are colliding at the point of understanding one another. Words are double-edged swords that cut deeply when we have tried to communicate in the past.

She is from the school of, I am your mother and I can say or do what I want. I am of the opinion that everyone has a right to protect themselves from toxicity and trauma. In my quest to live authentically, I teach people how to treat me, by what I will or will not accept. For years, my mother became the exception to the rule, because I did not know how to get her to follow my cues.

It was never my intention to be disrespectful. Yes, I am aware of the opinion that "no matter what your parent says or does, deal with it." The problem is I was cut so many times, I literally bled out. I could no longer turn the other cheek because it was already too bruised. So, I tried staying quiet and doing the positive self-talk thing. That did not work. Whether it was my ego or not, I usually had to set the record straight. I did not know it would be our last conversation.

That last conversation is a blur. Today, I need her to know that she matters to me, and I understand her more than she realizes. In one of 0ur last conversations, I asked my mother, "Why can't you love me?'" Her response was, "What is love?" I was so in my own feelings at the time that I did not truly process what she meant by that. It was her way of telling me that she did not know how to respond the way I needed her to.

As I think about that statement now, I realize that we can not give what we do not possess. Thinking of her childhood and all that she has endured, I realize just how difficult it is for her to play the role of a caring, loving parent. My grandmother was not there for her. My mother holds on to past hurts and festers deep wounds from her mother and only sister (rest in peace) that she can not let go of. I tried numerous times to get her to 'let it go.'

On the other hand, I have an abundance of love and kindness to share. In this moment, I wish I could give a bit of my reserve of happiness to my mother. I did the work over the years. I was open to coaching and mentoring. I grew and gained the capacity to help others grow. I wish my mother could relate to the life-saving terms I have come to know, such as: self-love, self-care, affirmations, meditation, and the importance of forgiveness.

I often call and leave positive voicemail messages. One day, she might pick up the phone. Hopefully, before it is too late.