When our parents are too soon taken,
We're not able to walk away,
Deciding which of their values should go
And which values we wish would stay.
We forget what they were really like
In both their goodness and their bad.
We begin to imagine they had lives
That our parents never really had.
This process works well for some,
Until they encounter others
Who had their own experiences
With our fathers and our mothers.
Suddenly we are squarely faced
With feelings long thought dead.
Encounters with people we love,
We may then begin to dread.
How are we to mend the wounds
When they are carried on in family?
Will we ever, from our painful pasts,
Ever really be set free?
It's incredible how much of our deceased loved ones continues to live with us for years after they are gone. I've found freedom by forgiving the wrong and praying that I don't make the same or similar mistake in my life. I try to focus on the good and talk about the positive part of their lives. A great man once said, "Forgetting those things which are behind, I press toward the mark..." (the mark of excellence)
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