I walk with hunger

I've been used and abused by men my whole life, but you were the only one who respected me and now that's lost too. My question to God is why? Why did you create men and women so differently? Why can a man get up and leave without a single tear and a woman shed so many tears for someone who left her like a dog in an alley. Why can a man kiss his children good-bye and not look back; while a woman would die without the feel of her children's lips everyday? Why God? Why the torment and pain that comes with loving someone so much that the loss of him makes one rather lose a limb than his touch? But he could care less if he ever touches you again.

Weeks before you walked out, I knew. I knew but I convinced myself that I owed it you. I convinced myself that it was my fault and I deserved the non stop pain. I sacrificed my children for my sorrow. I saw nothing around me, above me, or beneath me. I wanted to earn you back when you didn't deserve it. I lost my dignity because I chased after your love, a love that was no longer existed. I allowed you to tease me and use me with the hope that it would spark the feelings you once had for me.

I laid on the floors for hours weeping and yearning for you to walk back in the door. I wouldn't eat for days because my pain wouldn't allow it. I saw your face on every man that walked or drove beside me. Your cold blood, and your empty stare degreated me but I stood by the thought that I drove you to hate me, that is was me who did this. I blamed myself over and over. It has taken me years to realize that it wasn't my fault. We all have choices and you chose to hurt us. You chose walk to walk away. You chose to leave your family. I no longer blame myself. The wound is still opened and it taking long to heal.

Now I am a shell of woman. I walk like a zombie. I walk with hunger but without a heart.

Did she know?

Rain water is the best for the plants is what my mother used to say. Every time it rained we had to take all my the house plants outside for the rain to water them. We also collected buckets of rain water. My mother loved her plants as much as she loved us.

At my mom's funeral my cousins said they remembered that my mom would buy them Happy Meals from McDonald's every time they came over. I don't remember it too clearly, but it was a special memory for them about my mother. Someone else had a memory of her always willing to give to others.

My mom loved Baskin Robbins, onion cheeseburgers, and root beers. She loved her family. She loved life but she didn't know how to live it. She was sad most of her days. I barely remember her smile or her laugh.

I think of my mom every day, every single day. When she passed, it took me about two years to cry for her. Not because I wasn't sad or because I wasn't going to miss her, I just couldn't cry. Now I wonder if she knew how my much I loved her, how much we all loved her.

There have been times when I "go fishing" for compliments from my daughters, well that's what my girls call it "fishing" and they refuse to say something nice to me. I know they love but sometimes we need to hear, we need to know it, and we need to feel it.

Azalea Evelice was a beautiful woman, a strong woman, a giving woman, and so much more. But did she know? Did we tell her? Did she hear us? Did she know?

Tell those you love how you feel, tell them everyday, and every chance you get because more than likely they might now know or they need to hear it.