How does healing happen, how do hearts mend, how do we heal of our own accord as grief arrives with the loss of three beloved family members, two victims of cancer, the third a burst aneurysm while the deadly Coronavirus reigns supreme across a nearly destroyed planet, how can a disregard to connect prevail, is it a covert decision to not offer solace, concern or even curiosity, maybe the fortress built over the years for protection has locked everyone inside a cold darkness.

With years of relentless self-recrimination and ancestral anguish, the blame/shame is apparently hard-wired into each successive generation, a cellular overload of baggage writ into the DNA of the Lahti-Riley clan of silent Finn’s and Irish drunks, while hard evidence is unavailable, recent history indicates a high probability the Bain-Cannon and the Mortimer-Stuckey tribes carried the same absence of absolution now alive in the Riley-Bain-Mortimer psyche.

Did a peace offering, an acknowledgment of accountability from a less than perfect mother, who made amends to each innocent victim  guarantee forgiveness, no, nor did her heartfelt amends promise future harmony to unify a family; no, amends are a fragile beginning, a hold out for hope, an appeal to begin anew, to bequest trust and appreciation of the innate good within, to open the fortress doors together and behold the Light of day.  And still the bell tolls.