There are questions in life that only our parents can answer. Questions about our childhood, the decisions they made, the things they overlooked and the things they chose not to acknowledge.
As we grow older, we begin to recognise things we couldn't understand as children. We question decisions, identify patterns and become more aware of how our experiences shaped us.
For me, part of the healing process has been coming to terms with my parents' lack of apology and acceptance. But alongside that comes another difficult realisation: there are questions I may never have answers to.
And accepting that isn't the same as pretending those questions no longer matter.
Sometimes the questions we have remain unanswered, not because they are unimportant, but because the people who hold the answers are unwilling or unable to provide them.
There is a difference between accepting that an answer may never come and convincing ourselves that the question no longer matters.
Acceptance doesn't make what happened acceptable. Nor does it mean our need for understanding was unreasonable.
Our parents may have had their own limitations, but recognising those limitations doesn't remove the emotional consequences of their choices.
We can understand that someone may never apologise or explain themselves while still acknowledging the hurt their silence has caused.
Both things can be true.
One of the hardest parts of healing is recognising that closure may not come from the people we hoped would provide it.
For me, that means learning to trust my own understanding of my experiences rather than continuing to seek confirmation from my parents, after a lifetime of waiting for acknowledgement that has never come.
I don't need to have every question answered to recognise that my experiences mattered.
And I don't need my parents' acknowledgement to sit in my truth, to continue making sense of my past.
Accepting that an answer may never come doesn't mean the question stops mattering. It means I can recognise its importance without allowing it to keep me waiting.
Perhaps that is the next stage of healing: allowing the questions to remain, while giving myself permission to move forward.
