Sunday 20 May 2018

Mastering Peace and Learning About Forgiveness

If you’ve been following my social media, then you would have already read about my pre-walk encounter with Mount Kilimanjaro.

Screenshot of an Instagram post from May 11
The above picture describes a dream I had:

"I had a dream one night that I had climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro. I awoke to the sound of my Gramma giggling, although I was away at uni at the time. About an hour later, my Mom called to tell me she had passed. I made a promise that in 5 years I would reach Kili. Tomorrow marks 5 years since I woke from that dream and today, I am humbled to say, I have achieved this goal."

This was only one of the many things that took place over the course of the week related to my Gramma and Mom. For most, what might not be so well known from that post, was that a week later, I lost my Mom.

Today, is the 5 year anniversary of my Mom’s passing, and appropriately, perhaps, it is a similar day - rainy and miserable. It is very likely that these conditions led to her passing, although we will never be sure. Maybe she fell asleep at the wheel, maybe the rain was just so heavy she couldn’t see. Regardless, the result doesn’t change.

Not sure what we are doing here, but this was from around 1987.
Maybe we are baking, maybe we are bobbing for apples!
One of the goals I had for myself for my time in Kenya was to refuel, gain perspective, and begin the process of forgiving myself. On the first day of walking, we were tasked with spending a 2km period without talking to anyone. And in it was during this time that I allowed myself to think and feel some of the troubling thoughts and feelings I had been living with over the past 5 years. What needs to be forgiven, you ask?

A part of my story I often leave out is the events leading up to losing my Mom. Most, I think, know that she died in a car accident. But, not everyone knows that she was on her way home from dropping me off from my Gramma’s funeral. Although the rational part of me knows there is no link, the grieving, searching for answers part of me does not. And so, for 5 years, I have blamed myself. I have held myself accountable for the lose of my Mom. I had convinced myself that everyone blamed me - especially my brother. I sometimes think that part of why I went away for so long after she died was so that I didn’t have to look them in the eyes - fearing that what I had allowed myself to believe was true.

Doing what she did best - baking!
Check out the old Sobey’s bag in the background!
The day before our time in Maasailand came to an end, we were asked to gather in smaller talking circles and share our frustrations about the trip at this point. There wasn’t a specific type of frustration intended for this exercise, but the discussion in my group was going well. Most shared about the differences (and inequality) between what we’ve become accustomed to and that of the Maasai people. Some shared about the sickness that some (including myself) had been feeling. But I decided to honestly share my true intentions for the walk - dealing with the guilt.

In a pretty unattractive meltdown, I shared about my Gramma, and how I later lost my Mom. I shared about how my Mom came to be in the car accident. I shared about how all these years, I had been holding on to false-guilt, and was afraid of seeking the truth. They all held me, and reassured me that things would be okay.

That night, it rained...hard. A few tents flooded, it was muddy, but we survived. If you know anything about me, you will have come to know that I love the rain. I believe it cleanses all. And the next morning, I woke with a sense of calm i hadn’t felt in a very long time. I took this as a sign that it was time to face the music, so-to-speak.

This afternoon, I had a few family members over for a potluck. We shared stories of the past week and enjoyed the time together. When everyone left, my brother and I sat on the ledge of the fireplace and talked about Mom. It was the first time I’d cried all day - which is pretty miraculous given how much I usually cry/have cried over the past few days of being inspired and parting ways with the group! In that moment, I began to explain how much weight I’d been carrying out of guilt. I told him about the talking circle, and I asked him point blank if he blamed me. And to no one’s surprise, he told me it wasn’t my fault. That it could have happened any number of times before, or any time after, if not then.

The sun has since begun to shine. The weight, the guilt, the heaviness of a loss that is not mine to own has lifted with the clouds. That calm that I began to feel only a few short days ago, I now realize was the begin of my own forgiveness. I feel a sense of peace washing over me. And I hope, that in time, I will be able to move forward completely, knowing that none of this was my fault.

-the Orange Canadian

1 comment:

  1. Dear Emily, what a beautiful story and how courageous to share this with us. I am touched by your story and very happy to hear that this was such a good (and lifechanging..)experience for you. Big hug,

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