Dear Mum,
I'm sorry I missed your funeral. You know me — I would've spoken my truth authentically from my soul. I'd've spoken about good and bad, of pain and of love. The guests would've been furious at me. I'll visit your resting place in private one day.
So much of who I am, who I've become, who I continue to choose to be, is with deep thanks to you. You planted some of the most precious seeds in the garden of my child's soul. On good days, I love who I am. Many of the things I love about myself, and choose to pass onto my own children, are gifts I received from you, and have nurtured ever since.
I remember our long walks to Nana's. Long walks became a big habit in my life: meditative, calming and restorative — healing. And all those little blackbeetles we saved together, that taught me profound empathy for not just life itself, but especially for forms of life weaker than we are: the relatively powerless. Those little beings are insignificant to us, and yet we have the ability to completely change their