Yesterday my cousin sent me a treasure trove of genealogical information he researched about my maternal grandmother’s family. Her lineage held a lot of pain and grief. My grandmother’s parents died when she was 16, and she lost an infant son born with a serious congenital disease.
Grandma never talked about her childhood, and at the time it never dawned on me to ask. She had thick walls up regarding her past.
There was much pain in her family. In a shamanic journey from ten years ago, I was shown the image of my great-great grandmother Wilhelmina grieving the loss of her infant.
Grandma’s eldest sister was born out of wedlock, which would have been especially shameful then. The second oldest sister was born just five months after her parents married. Only once did I ever heard my mom and aunts talk about this. It was mentioned only obliquely in hushed tones, and when I asked what they meant, no more information was forthcoming. They all tightened up.
One of the documents my cousin forwarded to me was a response to a letter that my grandmother’s eldest sister had written to one of her cousins inquiring about her own paternity.
The cousin shared what she knew, including the name of my great-aunt’s probable father. In the same correspondence (dated April 1977), she also shared that my great-grandmother too had been born before her parents were married. This was new information to me.
Here’s the opening paragraph of that distant relative’s response:
“We received your letter and I will answer it although I would almost rather not. Mother said to forget that stuff and live in the present.”
Sadness came upon me, as I realized that my great-aunt had lived in the pain and shame of this secret for most of her life. Only in her old age did she inquire about her paternity. I paused and honored her experience.
In reading that family correspondence, a tribal belief clearly identified itself: “We don’t talk about our pain.”
This is a long-standing unhealthy agreement held in many lineages. But this agreement only causes more pain. It’s impossible to live in the present until we’ve healed the pain of the past. Avoiding it is the equivalent of putting a bandaid on a gaping wound and calling it healed.
Learning from our history, unraveling tribal beliefs, and healing dysfunctional family patterns are the best ways to honor our ancestors.
“I am Debra Ann Morrill. I hold my pain gently and allow it to transform.”
This work is real, and it matters.
March 31, 2022