The following is a continuation of an experience many of my longtime readers are familiar with. It was something in my childhood that brought me to yet another level of healing.
Backstory-
My birth mother died of cancer when she was 40 years old, leaving a husband and three children. My father, for reasons I truly believe were his best intentions, never told my siblings and me that our mother was sick with a serious illness because he didn't want to worry us or cause us pain. Five years after being diagnosed, when she was in the final stages of dying, my siblings and I were taken to stay with a relative. And after the traditional two-day Italian funeral was over, the three of us were brought back to our home and told what had happened. I remember that moment like it was yesterday. I had heard the words my father said, but I don't think I fully digested them. For me, it felt as if time had stopped and left a huge empty space in my childhood.
Photo on the left: my sister, brother, and me on the sidewalk in front of our home. Photo on the right: same photograph comparing how it looks now...
This is the back alley of our rowhome. And what I clearly remember about this alley is that it was where my father taught me to ride a bicycle on two wheels. Even today, I recall how he ran alongside the bike and supported it as I found my balance, and then let me go. Oh, what a great feeling that was!...
After visiting my home, Kelly drove me to the cemetery where my mother was buried. I had called the day before and got directions from one of the managers where my mother's tombstone was located. Even with the directions, it took Kelly and me a while to find the tombstone. But we did.
To be honest, I didn't know how I would react to seeing her tombstone again after such a long time. What surprised me was how incredibly peaceful I felt. And not only peaceful, but lighthearted and happy. At one point, as I laid my hands down, I could feel a vibration coming from the earth. And I said to Kelly, "I can feel her."...
I forgave my father for the choice he made because I understood why he did it. My father was a very kind and sweet man. He always looked for the good in everyone. However, he was also a man who had difficulty facing things that were unpleasant or uncomfortable. To shield his children, he took us away right before my mother passed so we would not have to experience it.
When I was in my late 20s, my father and I began to have conversations about what had happened because he felt guilty. When we were alone, he would sometimes ask if I forgave him. And I had. I knew in my heart he made that choice to protect me. He didn't want to put his children through the painful process of seeing their mother die.
When I was in my late 20s, my father and I began to have conversations about what had happened because he felt guilty. When we were alone, he would sometimes ask if I forgave him. And I had. I knew in my heart he made that choice to protect me. He didn't want to put his children through the painful process of seeing their mother die.
I'm a firm believer that it's up to the child to learn from the choices made by their parents. I don't believe in blaming because blame only keeps you there. So when I was in my mid-30s, I began to use alternative therapies that helped tremendously to release the emotional baggage I had been carrying around with me and began to heal.
However, what I discovered is that healing doesn't happen all at once. It comes in stages. And it does that because it knows at various stages of your life when you're ready to go deeper and release more emotional baggage. You can't change the past, but you can certainly use it to live in the present. That's what healing is.
For the past three months, I've been feeling the desire to go back to my childhood home and simply look at it. That house is where my pain began. That house is where I left that huge empty space in my childhood. And that house is also where my mother died. Therefore, I wanted to find closure.
I hadn't been to the cemetery where my mother was buried since I was a child. My father used to take us there periodically to visit my mother's tombstone and bring flowers. However, after we moved to Florida, that stopped. I hadn't seen her grave in over 50 years. And I was ready.
Two months ago, I asked my dear friend Kelly if she would drive me back to my childhood home and to my mother's grave because she not only had a car, but she is also someone I feel incredibly comfortable with expressing my feelings and emotions. I didn't know how I would feel once I got there, but I knew that with Kelly, she would simply allow me to be in the moment.
And she did.
Today I would like to share my experience of that day with you. This experience brought me down another path on my healing journey.
My childhood home-
The picture below is of my birth mother, my older brother and sister, and me, standing in front of our home in West Oak Lane, Philadelphia back in the late 50s. I have this photograph in a small frame that sits on a bookshelf in my apartment. Notice the house number on the brick wall: 7818...
Below is a photograph of me at that same address when I went back to revisit my childhood home last Sunday. The brick wall in front of the house was not there when my parents owned it. One of the following owners must have added it...
Then and now: standing in almost the same spot in front of the stairs...
I brought several family photos, which I placed along the tombstone. I don't know who placed the artificial flowers there, but had a feeling it was a relative from my mother's side of the family. Whoever it was, I thought it was very kind and thoughtful of them. It made me realize that after all these years, someone is still visiting her.
Kelly took these photographs as I sat down and allowed myself to just feel...
I can't tell you how grateful I am for last Sunday. It brought me full circle to an experience that has affected me my whole adult life.
I had no idea it would take until I was 67 years old to get to this point in my healing.
But I have to say that I feel much lighter, more open, and less afraid of abandonment. And I also got validation that even though I wasn't there when my mother passed away, I didn't need to be. Yes, her physical form left this earth in 1961, but her love for me never did. And that love is what lives on inside of me.
Revisiting my childhood that day reminded me of that.
In retrospect, I also see why I felt the desire to move back to Philadelphia in 2001.
To come home.
And to heal.
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Thank you, dearest Kelly! For last week, for taking these photographs, for your friendship, and for your love.
Love ya', my friend! 💖
And thank you, everyone, for taking the time to read this today. 💖
