I believe it is not I in the end of life that has to forgive them. This concept I doubt that I will ever change. Within the last five years . All my abusers have died. A release for me from the hidden fears I have held in my soul for decades.
Time passes on and their graves look deserted and to have been present for an eternity.
The cold north wind of approaching winter blows through the leaves left on the trees in this graveyard. Oak leaves shudder much like my childhood memories as I stand by these graves of people that should have been my protecting parents as the wind howls through my soul. Screaming through the empty trees like I did as a child, screaming for someone, anyone to help me. Dying inside each time a little more when I cried for protection from a mother that hated me unto the end of her life. A gift from heaven flows through my mind as I gaze at these forlorn trees surrounding this graveyard.