Last night I looked my mom in the eyes and told her I loved her.  It seemed like this might have been difficult for her to take in as she responded by hugging me and being playful and humourous.  Gently I pushed her back in front of me and told her I really wanted her to hear me.  I told her I appreciated all her support and all she's done for me.  I told her I'm grateful for her in my life.  I told her that I know that my anger is not because of her.  And I told her that I'm releasing her so that I can finally be my own person and so that I can love her better.  Both of us were on the verge of tears as I spoke.  Very open, intimate connection is not easy for either of us, so we stood there half tortured, half melting.

It is funny, sad, befuddling, and so understandable how difficult it can be to openly express love.  We fill our lives with lists of "important" things to do, to complete, to accomplish, and all the while the most important thing, the sharing of love, waits beneath the surface, sometimes buried most firmly under the wanting of love.

I sat in my van after my visit with my mother and, you guessed it, cried.  The reason for the tears was not clear to me, but they were free and succulent.  Perhaps the tears were sadness about the wall that's been between my mom and me, joy about the widening crack that we can both fit through, sadness about letting her go, and joy about a greater freedom to love.

Tomorrow I'll be taking a family constellation workshop.  Wish me well with my letting go.

Eric

"A ship is safe in the harbour, but that's not what ships are for."
-William Shedd

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