A June fifteenth love letter
By Peggy Howland
You are my mother and my father.
You taught me how to grow up.
You led me through the fears and shame
that paralyzed me, and you watched in amazement
as recovering fellow sufferers,
to whom you sent me, worked a miracle
of insight and acceptance and finally serenity
in me. You let me see
your humanness. You let me learn,
step by faltering step, to begin to trust.
You patiently explained, again and again,
when my anger masked the hurt
from the one whose love I longed for,
but could never receive,
because it was not freely hers to freely give.
She could not see me or know my need.
You know my need. You let me see
myself. You almost gave up on this
Slow Learner. You will always have me with you,
you said. And it is true.
A hundred times a day I recall
some lesson learned, some word spoken,
assurance of hope, some step to take.
My gorilla is tamer now, not as fierce
or fearful as in the days of despair.
What a long journey we have come together.
There is only one way I know to thank you.
It is to live the gift you gave me.
It is to trust you, to trust myself,
to trust in life and trust in people.
The road is still not easy all the way.
But it is not so difficult as it once was
to trust… You will always be with me.
Thanks, dear friend. A thousand thanks.
Love, Peggy
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