When Good Memories Surface from a Complicated Relationship
Some stories don’t soften—but sometimes our view of them does.
My relationship with my mother was difficult. Fractured. For a long time, the memories that surfaced were the ones that hurt. The kind that left marks and shaped my boundaries.
But lately, some other memories have been appearing. Small ones. Playing games with her at the kitchen table. The smell of her chicken and rice dish baking in the oven. The way she lit up around old buttons—how she loved collecting them and kept jars of them tucked away like treasure.
These memories don’t erase the pain. They don’t offer a revision. But they remind me that life, even in struggle, holds complexity. There were moments of care. Moments of presence. And maybe even moments of love that neither of us knew how to name.
Spirit Helps Us See with Wider Eyes
As a medium, I’ve learned that Spirit often brings these memories forward when we’re ready. Not to excuse what happened, but to round out the view. To say: There was more than just pain. You may have missed it then, but it’s okay to see it now.
Looking back as an adult, I see a woman who was surviving. A woman shaped by her own time and trauma. She didn’t always know the harm she was passing on. And while that doesn’t make it okay, it does offer context.
That’s the grace in these resurfacing memories: they aren’t here to rewrite history—they’re here to widen it. To show me that truth and tenderness can coexist. I don’t have to forgive to remember something fondly. I don’t have to pretend things were good to acknowledge the small moments that were.
What I can do is let those moments exist. Let them breathe. Let them remind me that I am capable of holding complexity—and that healing doesn’t always mean resolution. Sometimes, it simply means being willing to see more of the picture.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s part of what I’m modeling now. It’s my hope that one day, my own son will look back at our memories and hold them with love. Not perfect, not painless—but full of moments that made him feel seen, safe, and cherished. Even if we’ve had hard seasons, I pray he’ll be able to say: There was love there. I see it now.
Journal Prompt:
What memory of someone complicated has resurfaced with unexpected warmth?
Write about it without judgment. Let it belong beside the harder truths—not to replace them, but to sit quietly next to them.
