The worst part about our estrangement from Mom’s church is all the innocent bystanders… walking in and embracing all the wonderful people we used to engage with every Sunday. All the people who loved my mom, all people — especially people that aren’t on the executive staff there, who tried their best to help facilitate healing and not injuring — that we’ve lost access to because of a few people’s poor and cruel decisions. None of this was their fault. None of this was my fault, either. We didn’t ask for this.

There have been an abundant people from Mom’s church, staff members and congregants, who have been amazing and who have done their best in this terrible situation to reach out and extend their love. I’ve gotten messages and letters and all sorts of sweet notes.

I spent the last nine months (about when we found out about the sinister plans) fearing for my life and the lives of my family members because of my grandparents and the church’s leadership. Fearing that anytime I connect with someone from that church — will they tell the executive staff something about my life? Will the staff tell my grandparents? Will someone use this connection to hurt me and my family? Because they want to hurt me and my family.

When safety becomes a major concern it relationships, it’s best to leave those relationships, and that hurts most for the people who didn’t want to hurt us. For the people who didn’t know about any of this, all because of the few people who did know. All because of the few people who did hurt, and they hurt intentionally. Calculatedly. Coldly. Cruelly.

For a long time, I kept the majority and the specifics quiet because I didn’t want things to get worse. I don’t know what these people are capable of, because what they have done astonishes me.

The worst part about all of it is missing so many of you, and missing them too. Because you don’t stop loving people just because they hurt you. I really, really loved these people.

But love protects. It doesn’t intentionally inflict harm.

Love shelters. Love seeks the best of its beloved. Love heals.

Love doesn’t do what they did.

So many relationships were lost because of my grandparents and my aunt. They wanted that, and my Mom’s executive staff [likely unintentionally] partnered with them to accomplish it.

I didn’t stop going to Mom’s church because it was too painful — I felt I had to stop going for the safety of me and my family, and that is horrific and tragic.

* * * *

I miss many of you. I miss your smiles, I miss your hugs, I miss the way you would have brought healing.

I know you miss my Mom, too. I know you miss us. I haven’t forgotten you, and I cherish the ways you long to show up for us.

I’m sorry for the hurt this has caused you, too. I would have liked to mourn with you in tears and in embraces, instead of through messages and comments.

* * * *

My grandparents and aunt attempted to ruin my life and the lives of my family members. They won’t. I’m not hiding anymore, and I’m not continuing to cover up what has been done.

I’m not afraid of them.

I love them, and I do miss my grandparents. I miss having an extended family that I thought loved me, but perhaps they were simply glad to see their genetics reflect back at them in my smiles.

* * * *

I’m not bitter. I am sorrowful. I am disappointed. I am perplexed.

I work on forgiving them everyday, like my brother Sawyer wrote, “radical forgiveness.”

Forgiveness always comes with a cost: it surrenders justice and vengeance in pursuit of mercy. It says “I’m okay with letting this go,” while deeply hurting. It’s wrestling with injustice, while watching the offender carry on as if all is well. It’s the mental weight of knowing that an offense will never be made right, accepting that, and choosing to live a full life inspire of it.

I forgive my grandparents, aunt, and church leadership, but I will not entrust my heart and my life to them. She loved them and spent her life protecting their flaws and serving them.* I won’t make that same mistake.

*Note: I do not blame my grandparents, aunt, or her church’s leadership for my mother’s suicide. If you are being abused and mistreated, seek help. The crisis like is 988.

Also, it’s really not necessary or helpful to call the church enraged about anything I have posted. They’ll reach out to me to complain that I wrote anything and that you reached out to them. Just forgive them with me. They didn’t know what to do, they weren’t prepared for any of this.

To the church leadership — Sorry if you get a bunch of calls or some reaction out of all of this. Not my intention. But, this really happened. I’m not going to pretend it didn’t to protect your egos.