a letter to the woman who gave me life
reflections on complicated grief, love, and loss
grief is never simple. it’s complex, messy, and can hold both love and pain in the same breath. the woman who gave me life transitioned recently, and it reopened wounds that were once deeply scabbed over. she was the last of my three mothers to transition, leaving a wound that feels confusing and difficult to understand. this letter is a reflection of a relationship that was never easy, yet shaped me in ways i am still understanding. a relationship that held love, yes, but also deep scars, and a grief that is complicated by the very presence of that love.
it's taken me time to come to terms with what our connection meant, and what it continues to mean now. this is not just a letter of mourning but one of acknowledgment—of everything you were, and everything you weren’t.
‘cion, mami—
i am so blessed and grateful that you brought me earthside—despite it all—you fulfilled your mission. i pray you are able to rest now. your life was a war that you fought ill equipped—but fought nonetheless.
thank you for recognizing that it was me who made you a mother—a quiet reminder that i was significant, even when there were such profound feelings of the opposite.
all that i am—the good, the bad, the ugly—is a reflection of your spirit. we loved each other fiercely—often overshadowed by pain and pride—the love though, was always there.
thank you for the conversation that allowed me to see you as human—you didn’t realize how that changed my life.
my wish is that i never go a day without feeling your spirit and that all of the things you were unable to do in the physical—are available to you in the astral.
te quiero mucho—siempre.
luz y progreso para tu espĂritu. que dios te bendiga y te guĂe.
to anyone navigating their own grief and complicated relationships, know that it’s okay to hold both love and pain at once. healing isn’t linear, and neither is love. may you find peace in the spaces between the hurt and the love.
Love you đŸ’•