Coming to terms with the imperfect self is an important stage in grieving. One thing I've felt guilt about since mom died is pulling away from her physically as the cancer took hold, as she lost her hair, as she became more frail and sick.
I'll never forget when my mom got her first post-chemo wig. I almost couldn't recognize her. It was like she was wearing some kind of silly hat. But she was so happy to have hair again. She wanted me to love her new look. More importantly, she wanted me to see she was getting stronger, that she was still here, living life on her own terms!
Selfishly though, I struggled with a sort of dysphoria with her new appearance. Before, I had taken pictures of her and with her all the time. From that point on, I rarely took a selfie with her again, and any pictures I did take made me feel sadness rather than pride.
Looking back, I see things differently. Now I can focus not on the wig - not on the cancer - but on my mom's lasting beauty that shone from beneath the wig with brilliance. I can see her eyes sparkling as she touched up the wig with her fingers asking me how she looked. Yes, mom, you looked beautiful..truly beautiful...ratchet wig and all.
Anyway, I'm freeing myself today from this memory, from these feelings of shame I've been carrying for not being a better son. For not taking more pictures. For focusing on her slipping physical beauty instead of focusing on her inner beauty. For not seeing that she was still here, and being proud.
Today, I forgive myself. I'm not perfect. And that's okay. She knew that, and she loved me anyway.
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