Maybe Then...

Chapter 30: when I forgive her

When I forgive her, 

Maybe then, I'll learn to forgive myself

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At first, I wasn't quite sure where I was going to, and part of the time, I didn't even know where I was--physically and mentally. My state of mind was something unsolvable to me, and frankly, I didn't care. I didn't want to solve my problems. I didn't know what it was that I wanted, I just knew that I didn't want to deal with anything at that moment.

I began to recognize the street I was on as the street that grandpa and I walked on every Mothers day and every year in my mother's birthday. It was the street that had a quieter part near the East side of town near the cemetery. It wasn't an eerie sort of quiet, but a more peaceful one, one in which there was a solumn atmosphere of respect.

My crying sounded more and more out of place the closer I got to the entrance. It's kind of ironic, is it not? What location seems more appropriate to cry at: a street side, or a cemetery?

But sometimes we feel more comfortable letting out our emotions when it's sure to be drowned out by the sounds of the world continuing on. If it's bound to be drowned out by the noise, why not?

I walked past the graves, my eyes drying up a little, and stopped to read some of the tombstones.

There are usually certain types of people when it comes to the subject of cemeteries, although it seems like two are the most prevailent. The first type is those who find them creepy or eerie. The second type is the people who find them beautiful, or as a place of solitude where their loved ones bodies were laid to rest. I was neither of those.

I was the person who was unaffected by cemeteries, who saw graves as places where people liked to believe their loved ones were, but knew too well that they weren't. I knew that inside of those caskets were merely the bodies left behind by the souls that had left them. Once a fire burned out, and only smoke remained, it was only the results of once was. Once the fire was gone, it was to simply be ashes. And that's how I felt. Like an ember burning out, and though still alive, the flame was gone.

I stood limply at my mom's grave, simply standing there for a moment, staring at it.

The corners of my lips twitched upward. "You know, people don't usually talk about how you died, or even how you got to that point." I put my hands on the back of my neck and took a deep breath in. "They always talk about these great memories with you, and how you were such a great person. They don't want to remember you by the mistakes you made, and I get that.

"But, for some reason, when I hear your name, I think about those major mistakes in your life. I think about me." My voice grew croaky. "I think about me, because your wrong choices affected me." I looked up at the sky for a moment, chewing my bottom lip. "Because...I have to live knowing that I was born as a result of your mistakes. Because I have to live knowing that you chose to smoke crack over me. Over your own daughter!"

I was in full fledged tears by now. I sucked in a shaky breath. "And now, because I thought that my family only loved me out of pity and obligation, I looked desperately for love from someone else. But he didn't love me, he only wanted my body. I never told anyone about what he did to me, though. Because I don't want people to look at me as the problem child anymore than they already do. Because of you, I feel like every decision I make is just a consequence of your actions!

"Because of you I'm making myself go hungry, because I want something that is my choice, something that would have results not because of you, but because of my choices!"

I wiped my tears off with the back of my hand. "Was it you who acted selfishly? Or is it me who's being selfish by blaming you for my problems?"

I sat down with a sigh, pulling my knees to my chest and staring vacantly at her grave. "You died because of your addiction," I glared down at my hands. "Yet, I was born because of it, and I don't know how to feel about that. I don't know how to fell about most things. But," I moaned, "I forgive you. I forgive you because I know that your past doesn't define my future. I forgive you because I know that your mistakes do not define me." 

I stood back up, brushing the grass off of my pants. I tilted my head up to the sky with a bitter-sweet smile. "That's why you named me Amelia. Because you wanted me to fly to places that you never got to go. And I will. I'll make you proud, because although I can't forget that I'm a result of your addiction, maybe I'm the only good result. I forgive you."

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She's finally come to an epoch in her life, and though I teared up a little while writing this, I also know that Amelia has found a sort peace in her life. 

No, her story isn't done yet, but this is a turning point in her story. 

I've reached more 500 views on this book, and I thank God for it. I thank my readers for it, especially my regular readers who always give me support. I love you all!