A Healing

"My front" denied "Boy's" existence to the world, my fear and ignorance denied him healing, finally my writings set me on the pathway to atonement, and with my conscious atonement "Boy" was salvaged from his exile of nearly fifty years. As I welcomed "Boy" home thru these writings, my time of peace became my living reality. My memories of war were now lived within the bounds of comfortable sadness. I was no longer beleaguered by secreted unwarranted guilt or painful recollections appearing unbidden inside my head. I won my critical battle of life thru these writings. I was always alone while thinking and writing, but I am convinced others were there, unseen, patiently guiding when the pain became too much, allowing the tears to wet my shirt, helping with the words needed for a healing and staying my finger, not allowing that tragic bit of extra pressure on the trigger in the fall of 1989. I did not write alone. I truly did not believe "Boy's" retrieval possible, and I am astounded I accomplished this healing of my essence without knowledge of or consciously being capable of self-therapy, nor why I now feel whole.