These are the last words I will ever say to you “brother” : beyond you is your choice.
I wish and hope that they ring in your ears to the grave.

Your “parents,” and mine were not the same.

I lived a childhood of abuses, mentally and physically, all who came before me can attest.
I will be blunt:

I was glad when these people passed. They were not my parents or any form of guardians that I remember fondly.

As a child in Ireland, I did more for them than they ever did for me. I lived a life of fear, abuse, and avoidance. You have no point of reference for much of which you talk about. The ones older than you have never filled in the gaps for you, I apologize for that.

I hated my parents: For a Father who worked with child protective services, I could never reconcile his consistent condonation of that in our home.

I suspect you were the vessel for all they realized they had done wrong. I hope they gained some grace from that.

You are my brother; I love you. We have shared so much, and while I walk alone into the future it would be good if you understood, even if only for peace of the past.



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