I no longer subscribe to the “Don’t speak ill of the dead” mantra.
Why?
Because it almost kilt me, yes I said kilt. 🤦🏽♀️
After the death of my mother I was succumb by guilt, shame and regret, because our relationship wasn’t pretty all the time and I couldn’t speak on it.
But what I’ve learned is that love truly does cover a multitude of sin.
I couldn’t get to the joy, and overcome the grief, if I couldn’t resolve the fact that thorns grow attached to the rose. I couldn’t resolve that she did the best she could if I couldn’t acknowledge the wrong that sometimes manifested.
I actually dishonor her memory when I try to hide the bad because the good doesn’t feel authentic. Grief comes in waves, every wave didn’t feel good, sometimes the waters overpower you and makes you feel like you’re drowning BUT they will, they must subside.❤️
When mourning comes, we don’t get to tell it how to show up. Feel all the feels. Because I was able to release the pain I’m now able to bask in the joy.
Mama never held back. Her power and strength to endure flows through my veins. I strive to make her proud because all the pain she endured is being vindicated in me‼️
God did that❤️ with this pen He allowed me a safe place and space to release with no condemnation and no shame. In my book Finding Faith, I write a letter to her, which I’ll share later. That letter ended the bad memories and enabled my mind and body to unlock the good. It all came flooding back. A few years later, with this pen, while attending a poetry workshop one prompt allowed me to receive the apology from heaven that let me know Mama is stilly mommying😂. I’ll share that too. He is a father to the fatherless and mother to the motherless❤️❤️
The pain she endured and the anger I didn’t know how to release caused us to miss out on some things YET she still left me with everything I needed. She taught me how to survive and now God is showing me how to THRIVE.
