The Journey Inward

While at WonderSpaces in Philadelphia this past weekend, I came upon an interactive art installation.  The project asked museumgoers to take a white rolled slip of paper from the wall.  On the paper, we were to write words we wish we'd said to someone, whether a comeback, final words, or the perfectly worded expression.  We were encouraged to add our sentiment and read those of others if we wanted to.

I knew instantly what I would write.  It would be a message for my mom, who passed away this past September.  With tears in my eyes, I wrote this..."I wish I'd told you how much I was going to miss you."  I rolled the paper up and inserted it red side out into the wall.  I took this picture.

As I wrote the words, it occurred to me why I hadn't said them to my mom.  I didn't speak those words because I'd learned my lessons well.  Be polite.  Be positive.  Do not make others uncomfortable.  I knew I was going to miss my mom, but I would no sooner have said that to her than I would have begged her to stay or told her I was hurting.  How could I burden her with my feelings?  How could I say such a "childish" thing, be so selfish?  

But truly, how could I not have said this to my mom?  Wouldn't those have been the sweetest words to hear?  Would she really have felt guilty?  Would she really have felt that I was being impudent?  Would she really have wanted to believe that everything would be hunky dory from this day forward in this world without her?

Or would she have wanted to know that despite everything we had been through, I was filled with sorrow, filled with longing, filled with love, and that I wanted more time, even though I knew it was her time to go?  Would it have touched her heart to know that I would think of her every day, that I would tell stories about her, write about her, frame pictures of her?  Wouldn't she have wanted to know that I was going to miss her?

Why do we treat sharing our feelings as if we're giving someone a lump of coal instead of a gift?  Why do we pretend to feel a way we don't?  Why do we hide ourselves away from others, depriving both of us of the chance to connect...deeply connect?  Why can't we be authentic, real, vulnerable?  Why can't we stop assuming that the person will crumble or run in the other direction as fast as they can?  

Is it because we've experienced just that?  Maybe.  But maybe it's because we haven't tried it enough. 

I miss you, Mom.  


Photos:  Wonderspaces, Philadephia, PA.  7.21.23 by LA