Heart: I’m breaking.
Me: I know.
Heart: It hurts.
Me: I know.
Heart: Haven’t I been through enough?
Me: Apparently not.
Heart: I know it’s her birthday.
Me: Yes, we both know it’s her birthday. But, Heart, … hold on, you are …
Heart: I’m clouding your thinking?
Me: No. I’m actually thinking about the movie, “Stella”, with Bette Midler. Great movie.
Heart: Yeah, it was. So, you are identifying with Stella? I’m seeping into your mind.
Me: Yeah. I am not good enough.
Heart: Wait a minute, I’m the one who’s supposed to be spilling your feelings. You and I are weak when we become ‘one’.
Me: Yeah, but I hurt too. I remember all the things I tried to give my boys. I remember all, each and every one of my mistakes.
Heart: Yes, and I haunt you of those mistakes, needlessly. You need to rid them from me.
Me: She doesn’t know me.
Heart: And… you are thinking of your own relationship with your mother, who “didn’t like you” — told you how ugly and stupid you were, right?
Me: Yeah. I always sought acceptance. I respected my parents, even though I felt very unloved. Why, why is it this way?
Heart: Let’s just let this go. It is what it is. You’ve already lost a son to death, you can handle this. Let it go.
Me: It’s not that easy, but, I’m on my way. I have feelings too. I deserve to be respected and loved.
Heart: We are going to cry tonight. In the morning, we are going to accept what “is”.
Me: Good night, Heart.
Heart: Good night, Me.
Sue Marie St. Lee 