My fight, my battle, was never with you or against you, it was always for you.
To keep you safe, to keep you on the right track, to keep you from making bad choices
And to protect you from the possible bad influences of others.
For you, the one who I thought was most like me.
You had the ambition, the drive, the brains.
Perhaps I did too much, perhaps not enough.
But it was my duty as a mother, and with a mother’s love that no child can understand.
A love that is forever, although sometimes harsh, often misunderstood
Yet always there and always unconditional.
And I feel I may have lost a fight, but I have not lost the battle.
Because you are flesh of my flesh, and there is a bit of me in you still.
And you are forever in my heart.
The one who I thought was most like me.
The Beautiful Tinkerbell.