Forget Forgiveness

I have my paper ready.
It has two words.
Questions, really.

With all of the remaining space on the page
reserved for words that might never be written.

I have a fear and hope
that one day
maybe there will be a moment, or even less…

half of a moment where we connect
because that is what we were destined to do
connect.

Mom

I don’t know why so much got in the way.
but
I no longer find fault
at least not most of the time.
I can’t because

I see some of myself in you.
Not long ago, i realized that because of you
I lost part of myself,
and that i sometimes abuse others
others i love
because it was all i knew.
all I was taught,
by you.

and in that moment of clarity, i understood there is a possibility, however small,
that you are, or might be, lost too.
maybe you were at one point
taken from your own self
like me
but unlike me, you never managed to get it back

To get yourself back

And while this is all mere speculation
it is enough for me to have to see it from another angle
one where perhaps, you aren’t a monster at all
you’re just wounded
like me.

So while i would love to write it off, as i have been for years
That you are simply evil and that is that.

And give it no thought, as i have been for years
I am forced to
Now
face the reality that there is, in fact a reality that goes beyond you just being “evil” for the sake
of it…

And so, I pose my first question:
Why?
Why did you do it?
Why didn’t you care?
Why did it continue?

And i may never know.
I probably won’t
know the “why”
and
I’d like to say that i’m ok with that
but i’m not

I’m not ok with that because
of that pain
my pain, my fears and
my trauma, my tears, my nightmares, the hours spent with my therapist
the journaling, the conversations, the memories that suddenly occur to me that i had forgotten
all about
the hoarse throats from the screaming
and begging
for you to love me
to care
to see me at all
and the screaming in the name of you
even when you weren’t around.

and because of that

I think i am in some way owed an explanation as to why there was such a great cost that i had to pay
simply for existing in your broken presence.

But more importantly, 
maybe within that explanation, there is an answer that allows for me to understand that there
was once a cost that you had to pay as well.
Far before i entered your life

One that caused
your fears, habits
trauma,
tears and nightmares,
the hoarse throats from the screaming
and begging
for love
Care
and to be seen at all
Maybe you had to endure that, too

So i hold onto the paper
and grip it just a bit tighter
with the questions fading and the empty space growing
waiting for you, patiently

I realize

You might not know that i am even here, waiting for you in the first place.
And that i have been, for a very long time.
no longer angry, but rather
as someone who is
willing and wanting
to listen

I want to know
if maybe, there was a chance that you, yourself didn’t understand the gravity of it all.
Maybe because it was all you knew, too

because now I understand just how fucking painful it is to live sometimes
I want you to know that the pain I live with, some of it has your name on it
I understand and feel deep sorrow that there might be a name that makes your life painful to endure as well.
A name I have never heard.
One you have never spoken.

Maybe one day you will sit and look at me.
After so many years.
and have nothing to say
with an unspoken understanding
that there is, in fact, a lot to be said

We are women who are connected in some way, and always will be.
Regardless of pain caused
Choices made
Words expressed
Memories engrained and branded.

We are connected
In a way that abuse and trauma aren’t able to touch

so
The questions of why
have been asked 
and now i want to know

How

How it is that you were able and willing to create such wreckage with so much ease?
How you were able to do so without apology yourself
How it is that you are, seemingly ok with it? All of it.
How you are able to live with yourself?
How you are able to just, be ok with it all?

Maybe you’re not ok with it.

But 
In sitting with myself, and you right now, in my own way
I realize that within the mere existence of asking
questions and providing the
space, the silence, and the allowance for you to answer them
there is humanity. 

And i truly believe that everybody is owed that.
If nothing else, we are all owed…
Humanity. 

My questions remain on the page with the empty space surrounding them, reminding me of answers that exist
without ever being named

And a great possibility that the pain you caused
Might only exist because of pain that you had to endure, yourself.
Pain that has gone unspoken.
And will remain that way.

I have no choice but to accept that possibility
and with that, comes a responsibility for me to
have true empathy
for our shared experience



And, as for forgiveness. 

It is no longer necessary.
I have to face the reality that it might not have ever been required in the first place
Because the mere existence of answers.
even ones I will never hear.
just might take the place of an apology.

So how is it that I can’t ask for an apology where the answers
connect us
through shared experience.
of pain, abuse, wreckage, hoarse voices, and shame.

And if that is the case
that our connection exists only in our shared pain…

If that was the case,

then

Edele, I am sorry.
Because

you deserved better, too.