Sent in by Kamalhesvari Nagaraj.
There was a time when I felt angels had no place in my life. My childhood was difficult and hurtful. The one bright spot that remained constant was my maternal grandmother.
She lived halfway across the country so I didn't see her nearly as much as I'd have liked to. When she visited she had a way of making me feel loved and special. She accepted me just the way I was and I always felt safe when she was near.
I grew older and got into all kinds of trouble. I got pregnant at the age of 15/ I had not told anyone yet when my grandma came for one of her visits. It was near Mother's Day. She had a penchant for costume jewellery and she gave me one of her rings.
Needless to say, I was pretty surprised and exclaimed, "But Gram, you're only supposed to give gifts to mothers on Mother's Day!" She looked at me with infinite wisdom and simply said, "I know."
That was it. I felt her love and compassion and total acceptance. I still cherish that ring. It's tarnished and the pearl has faded, but there is no other ring of mine quite as beautiful to me.
Later, when I told her I was going to keep the baby, she told me to live with the father before I married him. That was almost 27 years ago - certainly not your average bit of advice for the times. It turned out to be the best advice I have ever taken.
But the father just perpetuated the misery I experienced at home. Eventually, I left him and took my daughter with me.
For the better part of my life, I felt like a misfit and sought refuge in drugs. Misery and despair were my daily companion. Sadly, my grandma died during this time.
My daily use of drugs and my running from reality accelerated. I wanted to stop but couldn't. My life had become a hell that I longed to be released from. I nearly killed myself with overdoses on more than one occasion.
I felt totally worthless and spiritually bankrupt. I tried to protect my daughter from the filth my life had become, but it was becoming impossible. I hated myself even more for what I was doing to her.
I prayed to God, though I didn't have much faith. I believed in God, but felt that he didn't believe in me. Why should he? I was the most vile of creatures.
In desperation one dark night, I prayed more fervently than ever. There was one difference though. I prayed to my grandmother.
I knew without doubt that if there was indeed a God, she sat close to him. She was the kindest, most loving person I had ever known and could only be at God's side. If anyone could help me, it was her.
My prayers were answered. The next day, I received a call from a rehabilitation centre. I had tried the week before to get in, but there was a waiting list and they said they wouldn't have space for months. This was for a 30-day programme, but they kept me for three long months. Eventually, I gained the tools and strength to get clean and stay that way.
I joined a 12-step programme and sought therapy for myself and my daughter.
That was 13 years ago. Slowly, I healed physically, spiritually and emotionally. I started to become whole. It hasn't always been easy. I've learn to let people love me and to trust enough to love others. I've since married a wonderful man I know my grandma would love.
My therapist once said she was amazed that I could even function in the real world, given everything that had happened to me when I was younger. I believe it was my grandmother's unconditional love that led me from certain death into the loving and rewarding life that I live today. She will always live on.
She lived halfway across the country so I didn't see her nearly as much as I'd have liked to. When she visited she had a way of making me feel loved and special. She accepted me just the way I was and I always felt safe when she was near.
I grew older and got into all kinds of trouble. I got pregnant at the age of 15/ I had not told anyone yet when my grandma came for one of her visits. It was near Mother's Day. She had a penchant for costume jewellery and she gave me one of her rings.
Needless to say, I was pretty surprised and exclaimed, "But Gram, you're only supposed to give gifts to mothers on Mother's Day!" She looked at me with infinite wisdom and simply said, "I know."
That was it. I felt her love and compassion and total acceptance. I still cherish that ring. It's tarnished and the pearl has faded, but there is no other ring of mine quite as beautiful to me.
Later, when I told her I was going to keep the baby, she told me to live with the father before I married him. That was almost 27 years ago - certainly not your average bit of advice for the times. It turned out to be the best advice I have ever taken.
But the father just perpetuated the misery I experienced at home. Eventually, I left him and took my daughter with me.
For the better part of my life, I felt like a misfit and sought refuge in drugs. Misery and despair were my daily companion. Sadly, my grandma died during this time.
My daily use of drugs and my running from reality accelerated. I wanted to stop but couldn't. My life had become a hell that I longed to be released from. I nearly killed myself with overdoses on more than one occasion.
I felt totally worthless and spiritually bankrupt. I tried to protect my daughter from the filth my life had become, but it was becoming impossible. I hated myself even more for what I was doing to her.
I prayed to God, though I didn't have much faith. I believed in God, but felt that he didn't believe in me. Why should he? I was the most vile of creatures.
In desperation one dark night, I prayed more fervently than ever. There was one difference though. I prayed to my grandmother.
I knew without doubt that if there was indeed a God, she sat close to him. She was the kindest, most loving person I had ever known and could only be at God's side. If anyone could help me, it was her.
My prayers were answered. The next day, I received a call from a rehabilitation centre. I had tried the week before to get in, but there was a waiting list and they said they wouldn't have space for months. This was for a 30-day programme, but they kept me for three long months. Eventually, I gained the tools and strength to get clean and stay that way.
I joined a 12-step programme and sought therapy for myself and my daughter.
That was 13 years ago. Slowly, I healed physically, spiritually and emotionally. I started to become whole. It hasn't always been easy. I've learn to let people love me and to trust enough to love others. I've since married a wonderful man I know my grandma would love.
My therapist once said she was amazed that I could even function in the real world, given everything that had happened to me when I was younger. I believe it was my grandmother's unconditional love that led me from certain death into the loving and rewarding life that I live today. She will always live on.
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