I have been releasing the stories I had believed about myself that were not my stories. They were other people’s stories given to me as a mirror.

I looked in the mirror and saw a distortion, knowing it wasn’t me but what others saw when they looked at me.

They saw their stories, and the role I played in those stories, the role they needed me to play. Mostly the bad guy, the scapegoat.

I didn’t play it very well. I complained, I objected, I kept telling the truth. I wasn’t playing my role, I was ignoring the script, improvising. It got me excommunicated.

This week I joined the ranks of people with a father who has died. I hadn’t seen him in 25 years. People told me I’d regret it if I didn’t contact him before he died, but I don’t.

He played his role too. He made a choice and it didn’t include me. I understand it, and I’ve made peace with it.

I’ve been waiting for this to change me somehow, but nothing has changed. It just brings up the distorted mirror again, and I’ve been seeing something more in my reflection.

The loss I feel is not about the death of my father, but for all that was lost before his death.

Today I’m saying goodbye to something that wasn’t. I’m acknowledging that every ending is a new beginning.

Tomorrow, I’ll step through the looking glass, beyond the mirror, beyond the stories, beyond the distortion. I do this in honour of the past, the pain, the lessons, the things we left behind.

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