31 years

my mother died 31 years ago today.
it's the first time i actually realise that.
it's hard to think about it, let alone write or talk about it.
with experience, i realise what i have "suffered" because of her absence.
with experience i realise that i am who i am mainly because i have "missed out" on this maternal love.
with hindsight, i realise how i have managed to compensate this, and that still now, more than ever, i compensate this gap, this hole, this mighty emotional chasm that lies before me and that i try to bridge this gutter however i can, everyday of my life. more than ever i think of this manque and how it has shaped my life, influenced my decisions [or lack of them], modeled my reactions, and above all directed my relationship with women. more than ever, i realise that my ombilical cord has never really been cut and that if it had been cut, i would be someone else, and definately not typing out these words. I embrace this link. to be honest, it is probably this link that i try to emulate with the women i meet (I need some serious analysing before getting into that one...). it's sort of reasuring knowing that the cord is still there. it gives me the impression that she is my guardian angel, still looking over me... and i truely believe that. i know that i've been very lucky and fortunate in life up until now, but i really think that i have a "bon œil" looking after me.
31 years.
yes, all of a sudden i feel a little older.
31 years and i still think of her.
31 years and i still miss her,
so i compensate,
and so,
i am not who i really am...
... or should be,
but,
i like who i have become.