Christine watched me with a long, pained look then broke eye contact. “She never wanted to talk about it. But whatever happened to her gave her terrible nightmares. And she never felt as though she was worth anything. You were her greatest accomplishment and a constant reminder of her shame.” She pressed her lips together as her chin trembled.
That was very difficult for my aunt to say, and I put my hands in front of me as if in prayer. “Thank you for telling me the truth. I’m not hurt. I always knew I was a reminder of whatever occurred between her and my father. The way she looked at me—sometimes she would love me as if I were the only thing that mattered to her in the world, then sometimes she would watch me with revulsion.”
Suddenly, Christine held out her hands for me to take. I hesitated as something hard arose in my heart. The emotion took me by surprise.
“Come on,” she urged me.
I furrowed my brow.Does she know what I was feeling?Carefully, I placed my palms on hers.
“Sweetheart, I love you more than words could convey,” she choked out. “As a doctor, you’ve learned a lot about the complexities of human nature, haven’t you?”
I nodded softly as she gripped my hands firmer. “I’ve already decided to give my mother the grace and the space to be human,” I said.
Aunt Christine held steady eye contact as she smiled. “Then that’s all I can ask.”
She stood and held her arms out. “Now let’s hug.”
I rose, and we gave each other a long, loving, and healing hug.