Now Hear Me Out... Forgive, And Set Yourself Free




I am writing this with tears in my eyes.


A few days ago I found out that the woman who helped raise me has passed away. When someone dies it is usually just sad. But this feels layered. It feels complicated. It feels heavy and tender at the same time.


After my mom died, she became my mother in so many ways. I used to go to her house all the time. If I was hungry, I knew I could knock on her door and she would feed me. I can still see us sitting around the table at dinner time, praying before we ate, surrounded by her grandchildren. Those moments live inside me. They always will.


She did not have much. But somehow there was always enough. Enough food. Enough space. Enough love.


When my dad died too, my whole world felt unstable. I was just a child who had lost both parents. She stepped in and gave me structure when everything else had fallen apart. She opened her home to me. She fought for me in ways I cannot even explain.


That is why what happened later hurt the way it did.


Years passed. She grew older. After her son died, I offered to take care of her. I wanted to be there for her the way she had been there for me. But during that time I saw a side of her I had never seen before. She was harsh. She was brutal with her words and actions. People told me it was old age. They said she was just getting old.


Maybe that was true. Maybe it was easier for everyone to say that.


But it hurt.


It hurt deeply.


I will not go into details. I do not want to stain her memory. But I left that situation broken. Angry. Disappointed. I told myself I would never speak about her again. I would never speak to her family again. I carried so much resentment.


I kept asking myself how someone I had admired so much could treat me that way. I wondered if she had always been like that and only hid it while my parents were alive. My mind went in circles with questions that had no answers.


Eventually I walked away.


Last year I went to see her. By then she barely remembered me. I told myself I did not care. You know that ego voice that protects you by pretending you feel nothing. I held onto that.


Then the call came. She was gone.


When I heard the news I did not know what to feel. There was a small ache in my chest. A quiet sting. It surprised me. She was old, yes. But I never imagined her not existing in this world.


Since then something has been stirring inside me.


Part of me feels relief. Not relief from anger. Relief because she is no longer struggling. Relief because she is finally resting. I imagine her reunited with her husband and her children. That thought brings me comfort.


But underneath that comfort is grief.


Today the tears would not stop. All the memories started flooding back. The dinners. The prayers. The way she would stand up for me. The way she made space for me when I had nowhere else to go.


I realized something painful and honest.


My love for her had been buried under anger. I convinced myself I did not care anymore because it was easier than feeling hurt. But the truth is I loved her. I loved her deeply. I still do.


She was fiery. Strong. Stubborn. Strict. Everyone who knew her would agree. She was not soft. But she was significant. She shaped parts of me that I cannot deny.


And now that she is gone, I see that holding onto resentment only kept me trapped.


So I forgive her.


I forgive myself too.


I hope wherever she is, she knows that I loved her. I hope she forgives me for the distance. For the silence. For the anger I carried.


Life feels uncertain right now. Everything feels like it is moving too fast. I do not know what the future holds. I feel like I am standing at the edge of something new, pulling at loose threads and waiting to see what unravels.


But in the middle of all this uncertainty, one thing feels clear.


Forgiveness is not about pretending nothing happened.


It is about freeing your own heart.


And today, through tears, I choose to set myself free.

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