Every end is a new beginning. A tossing, a passing of hands. The end of a relationship causing the beginning of a different form. The end of a life causing the birth of a new existence. The birth of a deep pain. A wound you have never felt, explored or touched. That loss spawning a new reality, perception, a truth. One that couldn't be formed, wouldn't be formed, without the loss of the first. A new beginning because of an end.
The birth of a baby. The experience of being handed off. A birth followed by a death. A death of a union. A sever of a bond with the slice of a cord.
In my own circumstance, wondering to what extent it was all felt. What she felt, what she took with her, what she still carries. What she wishes she left behind. As she placed me into the hands of others.
What lasting effect lingers within me. What severed tie is still sore. Curious, without resentment. An enamored respect for the courage, the strength of her choice. To know I was better off, with a better chance, in the hands of another. Our end being another's beginning.
Someone who could give me what she could not. Into the hands of a mother who had her own struggles, her own battles with health, with inabilities. Someone who could teach me, who could prepare me for the unexpected. Someone who intimately knew and who could prepare me for a tragedy. One she knew I would soon face. Lessons I would have never learned otherwise.
An education I would never receive in someone else's hands. Ultimately, knowing I landed in the hands I was supposed to. As if a divine intervention. Into arms that were eagerly waiting to catch me along with the responsibility of raising the unwanted. Someone who she herself had felt the same. Had battled similar demons. Someone who could instill in me the same courage my birth mother had. To believe I too could make a decision, no matter how difficult. To believe I too was strong. To believe I too would survive.
A new version on the horizon. No matter what got in my way. No matter what ended, a new form would become. My only job to keep going. Continue moving forward. To trust and leap into the unknown with a belief whatever was supposed to be will come to fruition.
A soul's purpose landing in the hands to mold what was supposed to be. To ingrain a teaching, a knowledge, an understanding of existence. A spark of belief, of hope in an otherwise abandoned world. A soul given to her by chance. A chance given to us by fate. A bond formed from the breaking of another. Our beginning only because of the others end. What I would become only because of what she taught me. The birth of who I am because of what she had shown me before her end grew near. My life from her death. My beginning from her end.