these are pictures of my biological mother who I was told was my aunt over 50 years of my life. I found these pictures going through some things that I salvaged from her home that her husband’s children ransacked.
that is when the chest pains started.
I realize now that I am heart broken. that I weep for me and for her. I weep for my lovely mother who raised me. I weep for them just as much as I rage at them for keeping vital information from me.
I realize that I have to un break my heart… all by myself. because they are dead. And because they – each – in her own way – gave me all the tools I need to un break my own heart.
to free myself from the chains of shame and propriety and fear that kept them at dis-ease and killed them.
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