Dear Eli,This is so important, so let’s talk about it today.The first thing you should know…This isn’t a quick fix cranked out of boredom. It’s a labour of love hashed on paper before my fingers punched at the keys on my system. This letter was birthed with my eyelashes laced with tears that dampened my face.I should have written to you last year but I was pressed for time. The different hats I wear leaves me handicapped.So far, your sister, Ella has received two letters from me. Tonight, I chose to break the silence between us.The reason:I heard you cried on Sunday.You watched the elegant women cluster a few meters away from the altar shaking their waists and ankles to the rhythm of ‘Sweet Mother, I no go Forget You.’Large PR smiles flashed. Grins and laughter pervaded the auditorium as husbands, sons, and daughters joined the women.It was Mothering Sunday.At home, you felt strong enough to dismiss the thoughts of your late mother. That’s the simple reason you attended the special programme.But something broke in your soul when one woman who was in her late fifties pulled out of the throng and danced towards you.You recognised her face. She had been your mother’s best friend. She jerked your arm before pulling you to join the others.Your uneasiness worsened.Your heart jumped.Your legs trembled.And your mind whirled.The boy in you screamed inaudibly, “Mum, why did you have to leave me so soon?”But the man who had been trained to chin up, square his shoulders, and conceal his emotions smiled and danced zanku zanku.Eli, you and I know something changed when you returned from church.You wept.You groaned until your head ached. You longed for a mother’s touch but all you had were your feeble arms wrapped around your body.You didn’t realise how much you missed your Mum. You assumed the pain had healed. Behold, it was just a covered wound.Here’s my concern: A lady heard your moans and knocked at your door. You wiped your face and turned the handle.“Are you okay? I heard your groans.” Her voice was soothing.“Don’t you see it’s sunny? Do I look like something is wrong with me?” Your face wore a frown.Eli, you wiped your tears but you didn’t wipe the redness in your eyes. She heard the pain in your voice shrouded in anger.I heard she apologised for intruding, slammed the door and gave you a backward glance.When I asked the reason she left, she said your words and attitude broke her heart. More especially, she said she trusted you to harness your emotions. Believe me, Eli, she was indeed hurt.Too bad you hurt the stranger who wanted to help you out of her free will.Who told you shedding tears is a sign of weakness?I think the distortion lies in your mind. Your concept of strength is warped and delusional in perspective.Why act Mr Incredible Hawk before your helpers when your soul is under a fiery attack?Why parade the King for all to see when the boy in you longs to be held?You counsel others yet you can’t fix yourself.You sing for others yet drought parches your inner self.Ain’t you tired of wearing a camouflage?I get it, though.You were wired to fix machines or situations by yourself. For instance, the inbuilt ego learned to operate the television without skimming its manual. Biologically, you are a man. Your genetic makeup keeps you in charge all the time.So you fail to recognise or receive love from the people who love you despite you.Can I shatter your idea of strength?Remember Jesus Christ? Your Lord and Saviour is the greatest man who ever lived.He raised the dead. He walked on waters. He fed five thousand people with five loaves of bread and two fishes. He healed the sick yet He cried.Eli, your hero wept.He wept when He was taken to Lazarus’ tomb. He wept before two women-Mary and Martha. He wept after He declared to Mary, “I am the Resurrection and the Life. Anyone who believes in Me will live, even after dying” (John 11:25).Again Jesus offered prayers and pleadings, with loud cry and tears, to the One who could rescue Him from death (Hebrews 5:7b).I can share these because Jesus was unafraid of being vulnerable.Eli, I know you hurt. I know the vacuum your mother left cannot be filled by any other woman. But there’s someone out there who is willing to give you a shoulder to droop on.She’ll offer her arms to rest your trembling body.She’ll wipe your tears with her blouse and still acknowledge the King in you.She isn’t the type who will see you at your weakest and have it thrown back in your face in a moment of rage.Accept your mother is gone. And give another woman a chance to care about you.On a final note:The lady you lashed at sent a message: I turned my back but I didn’t turn my heart.It’s up to you to search for her or let her go.If you need help with this, don’t hesitate to reply to my letter.I pray the God of all comfort to comfort your heart with His kind of comfort.You will be fine.