By Rhonda Cottrell
Grief splintered me and pulled me down into isolated misery. I couldn’t recall my dead mother’s face.
To feel something different, I yanked open the door to my mind’s memories. A tiny, withered version of my younger self stomped out and shook minuscule fists with rage.
I grasped my inner child’s shriveled hand, and we trudged to the edge of a deep ravine. We opened our mouths wide. Our angry screams filled the valley with impenetrable fog. We gained strength as Mom’s smiling face appeared in the mist. We became less broken, swirling and dancing back down the mountain, reconnected again.
This one touched me. Great visceral writing
Thank-you!
Acceptance and healing, unity.
Yes for sure! Thank-you!
Lovely writing. Really captures the grief and anger especially when you can’t recall a face you loved so much. Well done.
Thank-you!
This is so emotionally powerful, heartbreaking and inspiring all at once.
Thank you for your kind words.