Life After Death - Life After Abuse

Life has taken many different turns since my parents died. 

I am not proud of many of my actions after the death of my parents. Immaturity rose. I wavered between being an adult and a child. I don’t know if this is normal, because nothing in my life has been normal. I floated between impulses, by the jolt of facing places and people I had not seen in decades.

I was a passenger in the rollercoaster of death and took the ride. I should have buckled in the seat or maybe gotten into the driver’s seat instead of allowing myself to regress, disassociate and--like a child--simply experience and feel. But the reality of my parents' death, placed me into a position of a child. And all the days I was a child, my vulnerability was taken advantage of and the love container remained empty. So when they died, oddly--I suppose, I didn’t want to be in control. I didn’t want to manipulate.

I wanted to daringly feel the rawness of the changing winds upon my face.

I wanted to feel. 

So, I go on reflecting, my abuser no longer lives, nor does the one who allowed the abuser.

But, life goes on. The sand continues to drop through the hour glass. The sun rises and sets. The seasons change, and so must I.

Because, I still live. 

And I am still standing. I have wobbled but never stayed down. I have hurt people, but I am not destroyed. I have made very bad decisions, but I am forgiven by God and by myself.

The change, after the death of my abuser, is not as dramatic as I imagined. Yet, I have grown up-- some. And at the same time, I still have periods that I regress, and even get depressed. Nothing changes magically.

The music keeps on playing and I sometimes allow myself to hear it long enough to relax, dance or remember that I don’t always have to be strong.

In the depths of my inner core I do feel a release in knowing that they have begun the eternal side of life, the part of facing the consequences of life decisions and one’s maker. This gives me peace because I know GOD is just.

Life is a string of moments, in the end summed together as nothing more than a blip in eternity. That moment for my parents is over-- the mere moments of their existence on planet earth. All that composed their 80 years of life is gone and all that remains on planet earth is the consequences of the decisions they made.

As long as we are given a breath, we are alive for a purpose. 

Nothing goes unnoticed or without an eternal effect.

But that does not mean, we should live heavy, making crushing impacts, because it is the tender light touches felt like the brush of an angel’s wing upon the cheek of our face, that can cause the greatest impression.

The horror of the abuse ended long before the death of my abuser; however, the full healing of the damage done will not be realized until the day I enter eternity. While I long ago learned to and continue to practice accepting it upon my open palms turned upward toward the Lord, the weight of what was given (allowed) still causes me to bow before my Maker.

I still want to at times say “why me?” I still, at times, long I had a mother or father to run their fingers through my hair and look at me with endearing eyes of unconditional love. (Does everyone desire this? or only those who did not have it?)

So I start again. Breathing. Reflecting. Healing. Growing. Being.

Thank you for joining me, as I continue this journey, as long as it may be. 

(photo credits go to mechtaniya on Deviantart)