Grief, Accountability, and Learning to Name What Was Never Asked
There are moments when you don’t realize you’re learning something new — you’re realizing something old.
This blog is one of those moments.
I’m sharing this thoughtfully and intentionally, not to assign blame, not to reopen wounds, but to name patterns I’m still understanding — patterns around grief, accountability, unmet needs, and how often people give others what they would have needed instead of asking what’s actually needed.
What Actually Happened
When I was seven years old, my sister Elorie was eight.
Our mother told Elorie to take my clothes off and put me outside.
Elorie tried. I fought her.
Then my mother stepped in and put me outside herself.
That detail matters.
For a long time, as a child, I blamed Elorie.
Then I blamed Elorie and my uncle.
Then I blamed just my uncle.
Then, eventually, I blamed my mom.
Each shift happened while I was still a child — trying to make sense of something my body remembered before my mind could.
Blame moved as my understanding evolved.
The Conversation About Darlynne
Recently, Elorie and I had a conversation where I referenced something I once said to my sister Darlynne about her childhood experience.
Darlynne was three.
The twin boys were four or five.
At the time, my thinking was this: children that young should have been supervised. If an adult had been present, none of that would have happened. My intention was to place responsibility on adult supervision — not to minimize harm.
Elorie said I minimized Darlynne’s experience.
She did not say it in a harsh or accusatory way. It didn’t feel like judgment.
What I felt instead was the beginning of understanding something deeper.
I now believe Elorie was expressing what she would have needed if she were in Darlynne’s position. I do not believe she did this intentionally or maliciously. I also believe she may have been speaking for Darlynne — not because she wanted to override her voice, but because sometimes we speak from our own unmet needs without realizing it.
And here is the truth I’m holding gently:
Only Darlynne truly knows what she needed — even if she’s unable to communicate it.
Both Elorie and I may have been wrong.
Both may have been trying to protect something.
Both may have been speaking from different places of pain.
The Apology — And What I Actually Needed
Years ago, Elorie apologized to me for throwing me outside.
She apologized because she believed that was what I needed.
And this is where my understanding shifted.
What I needed was not an apology from Elorie.
What I needed — and still need — is accountability from the adult responsible. The adult who instructed it. The adult with power.
Elorie gave me what she thought I needed — likely based on what she needed to make sense of what happened.
That doesn’t make her wrong.
It makes her human.
And it helped me see something harder:
I may have framed Darlynne’s experience through responsibility and supervision because I never received accountability from the adult responsible.
Not through impact.
But through logic.
That matters.
How This Shows Up in Grief
This pattern didn’t stop in childhood.
When my father died, I didn’t want:
To sleep over my sister’s house
To stop working
Gifted clothes
My hair or makeup done
Rides — even though I didn’t have a car and rides were offered generously
I wanted to be home alone.
One sibling said, “Your father only dies once,” and that they wanted to be with all of us.
I understand that.
But I didn’t push back — because I had five siblings and their partners in my ear telling me what I needed.
So I listened.
And now, years later, I can say this honestly:
I don’t think I ever got the chance to grieve my father.
Listening That Failed
When I push back on my needs, I’m often told I don’t like to listen.
But when I explain that I did listen — and it failed — the response becomes:
“That’s not what I meant. I meant this.”
That doesn’t confuse me.
It frustrates me. Sometimes it angers me.
Because support that doesn’t leave room for feedback isn’t support — it’s projection.
Why This Matters
I’ve been thinking about public conversations around trauma — including situations like Chrisean Rock and her sister, where people argue about blame, silence, and whether something should be spoken at all.
What I know is this:
Some people suppress trauma
Some people misremember
Some people lie
Sometimes multiple truths exist at once
And in every situation I’ve mentioned, everyone involved could benefit from someone safe to talk to — without fixing, diagnosing, or deciding what they should need.
Why This Connects to WithMother
This is why WithMother LLC exists.
Not because homes get messy — but because life gets heavy.
Because survival mode lives in the body.
Because environment matters.
Because dignity matters.
If you need help resetting your space, we’re here.
If you want to quietly support another family through our community care model, you can.
No spotlight.
No trauma-mining.
Just care.
A Soft Podcast Seed
I never thought these lives could become a podcast.
I assumed a podcast had to be polished, visual, planned, perfect.
But I’ve already been having these conversations — live, honestly, imperfectly.
So I’m moving forward slowly and intentionally.
Some episodes will just be me.
Others may include professionals and lived experience voices.
Nothing loud. Nothing rushed.
Just space.
Closing
This isn’t about blame.
It’s about awareness.
Sometimes healing begins when we stop deciding what someone should need — and start listening for what was never asked.
— Candida 💚
