If only my mother loved me more. If only my father was there for me. Forgiving our parents for their “shortcomings” is a mark of maturity and wisdom. It means that we understand the higher Order of things, and we know that there is really no such thing as Responsibility.
Our parents did the best they could. That’s not a compassionate gesture. It is a fact of the physical Oneness we are all a part of. They couldn’t have done differently. Their every thought, feeling, and action came from a higher Source. Every scolding. Every scapegoating. Every instance of apathy or neglect. They only lived the Life which unfolded through them.
Dear Mom, I love You. I do not define You by your past. I do not hold You accountable. You do not need to feel guilty, because there is no true Guilt to be found. I want you to let go, to forgive yourself, to see that your Self exists beyond “blame” and “forgiveness.” It’s all just a beautiful fucking Dance, isn’t it?
Dear Dad, you were far from a perfect dad. But you were a flawless expression of the Oneness which comprised “you.” I wish I could be with you now, now that the bitterness and blame has passed. We could share the Presence we have always shared, and laugh at whatever else was “there.”