Missed opportunities

I’m a piece of my grandmother in terms of personality and how I look at life. There is a core piece of her soul that resides in me. She would have been happy to hear from me before she died. I fucked up, because I just looked at it logically. I was worried about what I had to say and how futile it would be. I am sure she would have understood this. I am sure she knew that I loved her. But I should have cared more about what she might have wanted to say to me rather than what I would have said to her.

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I stand up for myself

I would like to tell my mother that she did nothing wrong. She feels that I am giving her the impression that she did something wrong because of how I live my life. I wish for her to be able to better accept me for who I am and what I believe. I wish for myself that I could speak out my mind without fearing an escalation of emotions in every instance.

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It’s ok that I am the way I am

My maternal grandmother would have turned 90 this year. She died exactly on her 72nd birthday. She had a heart attack while she was on the toilet. I don’t want to tell her things as much as I want to ask the 1000 questions I have for her. It might be some kind of search. There are surely many people in the world who have similarities with me, but within the family there is a strong desire for identification because these are my personal roots.

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