He quietly reaches for you. Your tears of pain, of hurt, of confusion and self loathing. Your tears of sadness. For the son who seems out of reach. For the father who never truly saw you. Tears for the mother and husband who in their own fear failed to help. Failed to help. They hurt you. They did. They have for many years. Tears for self. Now self loathing. For the deep longing and impossible belief that you are ok. Tears that sting and ruddy your cheeks. For the son you seems out of reach. For the words you’ve always heard telling you to change. To be someone you have tried to be, but knew you were not, not now. Tears and electric jolts coursing through your body. The screams of panic telling you to run. But we sit. We sit. It hurts. Yes, it does. Yes, it hurts. But we hold. We affirm. Then, he quietly reaches for you. You sob. No words, just tears. Gratitude.
No words needed