You have a mother who loves you. She buys you toys and takes you to the playground. You recall the past, and the memories are full of sweetness—you were only three or four years old at that time. You thought your childhood would be this happy forever. You thought your childhood would be no different from others.
One day, you and your mother got separated at the playground. Then you turned away countless foster families. You steal money, you mess up, but only because you want to go home, to your mother, to your real family.
(You have a mother who loves you. She gave you to relatives when you were two years old, and said sorry: Sorry, Mom and Dad are too busy. Your relatives treat you like their own children. When you were eight years old, your parents took you back to their house. You messed up, you always made them angry, and even hoped that they would separate and divorce.
If they can't take care of you, you can be sent back to relatives. You think so. You treat your relatives as your real family. You just want to go back. )
Grief can keep you out of it. You will temporarily leave your own narrow, small body. However, unless you have love before you, you will not feel real grief. Grief is the end result of love because it is lost love.
When you were fourteen, you followed the guidance of others and found your mother's place. What will be waiting for you?
(When you were fourteen, your parents separated due to conflict and sent you back to relatives. And you were even happy about it.)
Your mother told you. Your father is in jail, and she got pregnant out of wedlock and was kicked out by her father. She is pulling you alone, and life is very embarrassing. After being separated from you at the playground, she saw you from a distance with the police. She thinks you can get a better life in foster care and leaves you. After that, she married a man who didn't love her, lived in a low-cost apartment, and suffered from her husband's beatings and scolding, with no happiness at all.
The apartment where my mother lives is just a house. you think. rather than home.
How could she possibly give you another dream home?
(Your original guardian has a little granddaughter. You watch them scrambling to take care of the little baby, with white hair crawling to the temples. Your children's books are put in the box, and the cabinet is full of babies Toys. You have grown tall and your bed has become small. The traces of your life here have been mopped up and replaced by the imprint of this new child.
You are already unfamiliar with this place. You have changed, you like the new and hate the old. you think. And years later you realize that the family has changed too.
It can't hold you anymore. )
Grief can reunite you with what you lost. It is a fusion where you go with those people or things that you loved but have lost. In a sense, you detach from your ego and follow it until you can no longer keep up with it.
You suddenly think of the foster family who was willing to take you in. your adoptive parents. Your half-siblings. And they are now in trouble because of you. You give back to her the compass that your mother gave you back then: I have found a new family who loves me. Hope you too can find your new home and find happiness.
You turn around and run to the top floor. where to go? go home. To save the home that is in trouble because of you.
To save the lives of family members, but also to end their wandering childhood.
(You suddenly remember the home you once sneered at. Your biological parents. And they were in an emotional crisis. The family seemed to fall apart at any moment.
You turn around and leave the house where you once lived. where to go? go home.
In addition to the home where your parents are, who else can accept you? )
This is Billy Batson's story.
(This is my story.)
He finally found his home.
(I finally recognized my home.)
but?
(but.)
What are my options? You cry, you whimper, because you haven't quite come back from that place, where you went with him. Your living, beating, throbbing heart remains there. a gap. A wound that never heals. If this kind of thing happens over and over again in your life, then your heart will be scattered too many pieces, and you will no longer be able to experience true grief. By then, your own time will come to an end. You will eventually step up that upward, sloping staircase, leaving others behind to mourn for you. ———————— Philip K. Dick's "Flow! my tears
The wound is still there.
(The wound is still there.)
It really hurts.
(It really hurts.)
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