I found one...heart keeps beating

Well, Saturday night, I found my daughter. My eldest, my first born. She has not yet contacted me, but I've been informed she is writing me a letter. You know, those ancient forms of communication where one sets a writing instrument to paper....then affixes a stamp and sends it on its way. Mail seems to be much slower these days, and I find myself on a Wednesday night previous to a postal holiday forced to wait another day...2, really, to see if she has written and if her words are stilletto sharp or healing oil. Or both...or neither? What must a young woman say to a woman who essentially abandoned her for 28 of her 31 years? Anger. I always come to anger, don't I? Come to grief...an expression Dick Francis used and titled a novel...do I now come to grief? I'm familiar with grief. A constant in my life. Oft self-imposed...never endured lightly, but most often endured alone.
So...I find this beautiful woman who was born 31 years and 5 days ago...from my hips...through my body...I recall the rainy day she arrived, after a weekend move...after a morning drive of over 60 miles in November rain...to be sent back in an ambulance to deliver her with strangers...a vicious nurse who slapped me...but this beautiful being came forth. To me. And what have I done? Well, haven't I allowed someone to take all the beautiful things from me? Where did I learn this horrid thing? How did I come to allow myself to exist with all this loss? O Father Jehovah God, do forgive me, or let me have mercy in sleep