„The pain a mother feels when her children are grown is a very particular kind of pain. It doesn’t scream out loud, it doesn’t pour out in tears for everyone to see. It’s a quiet, deep, restrained ache, tucked away in whispered prayers, in late-night thoughts, in the silent sighs over a cup of tea at the kitchen table. It’s the kind of pain that comes when your children have grown up, stepped into their own world, making their own choices, their own mistakes.
Every instinct in a mother wants to run after them, to hold their hand like when they were little, to shield them from everything — from harm, from pain, from reckless decisions. She wants to shout, “Stop! I know what’s best! I’ve lived this already!” But… she can’t. Because they’re no longer the small child she could scoop up and hide under her wing. They’re an adult now — with their own path, their own destiny, their own heart learning through its own wounds.
The hardest part is letting your child live separately from you. Allowing them to fall and get back up, to make mistakes and gather their own wisdom. Holding back when you want to intervene. Staying silent when your heart is bursting with advice. Just being there. Praying. Sending love in your thoughts and trusting it will reach them. Hoping that, somehow, everything will turn out all right.
Because for a mother, even when her children are grown, one thing never changes — she loves them. And every single day, she prays for them.”
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