Guilt... the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

I've had an epiphany for myself this week.

I heard a talk and I read a book, and ....

epiphany!

Changing my life--epiphany.

First what you need to know:

When someone close to you dies, you often take on a lot of guilt with the grief. At least I did. And one thing I learned this week was I'm not alone in that.

Five years ago my sweet little mother died and there are still things that rack my heart with guilt. Things I cannot change, but scenes I'll still play out a hundred times in my mind-- how I should have done this... what I should have said...

So, the talk:

On Sunday I went to church in a different ward, as part of my calling. President Rob Andrus spoke. And one of the things he talked about was guilt. He said (and I am totally paraphrasing here) that guilt is a good thing when it moves us to change, when it moves us to do better, when it moves us to repent. BUT when we cannot change what's done, when repentance isn't needed, when we feel guilty over the past--guilt will be destructive and a tool of the adversary.

epiphany

The book: A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness

I read it for book club. I read it because my friend Fara had it in her hand and said, "I'm done, you should read it." And handed it to me. Otherwise... it wouldn't have happened. 

I'm so grateful that it did. 

It's one of my favorite books now. I borrowed it, read it, and literally I shut the book after reading the last page and went to my computer and bought it. 

It's insanely powerful and insightful.

It's beautiful and real. So, so real.

I hate to tell you too much because it's just not the same as reading it. It really isn't. But--the mom is sick, the son is young and filled with responsibility for things he shouldn't be--dinner, dishes, as well as her sickness. 

Toward the end the mom says this to her son: "And if one day...you look back and feel bad for being so angry, if you feel bad for being so angry that you couldn't even speak to me, then you have to know, Conor, you have to know that it was okay. It was okay. That I knew. I know okay? I know everything you need to tell me without you having to say it out loud. All right?"

epiphany

And between the talk and the book, I finally thought to myself--my mom knows. She knows how much I love her. She knows that I wish I could have been there. She knows that I wish I had been stronger. 

She knows. And the guilt that I've carried so long, isn't helping anyone.