What If Your Parents Did the Best They Could?

For a long time, I carried an abandonment wound. Not because my parents didn’t love me, but because they, too, were dealing with their own struggles. It wasn’t until I began my inner journey that I understood: my parents were human, with their own wounds, and they could only give from the level of consciousness and the tools they had. That understanding didn’t erase the pain, but it changed the way I saw my story. I stopped telling it from the wound, and I began to share it from wisdom.

WOUNDS OF THE SOUL

Gabriela Juvera

4/30/20253 min read

A Father Present in the Material, Absent in the Emotional

I grew up with a father who was always a great provider, but emotionally he was absent.
As a child, he was to me a strong figure, although the truth is he was rarely home because of the family business. He and my mother would arrive late at night, and on weekends they usually went out with friends.

I wanted to tell him about my world, to speak to him from the heart, to share what I was feeling…
but in those years, in the 70s, education was very strict, and expressing emotions was not common. So, I stayed quiet.

No Space to Feel

It was another time, and emotions simply weren’t spoken of. Deep conversations were “adult matters,” leaving us on the outside, with no space to integrate emotionally.

A Childhood With Emotional Responsibilities

When I was just seven, my mother became ill. From then on, I often had to take care of her—especially emotionally. That situation forced me to grow up quickly.
I became resourceful, emotionally detached from both parents, a little girl who learned to be empathetic toward pain… far too soon.

The Wound of Abandonment

For a long time, I lived with the sensation of abandonment. Not because they didn’t love me, but because both were struggling with their own processes. My father also battled alcoholism.
And I, so small, didn’t know how to explain what I was feeling. At home, things were simply not spoken.

Later on, I carried that wound, but I couldn’t share it without feeling I was being unfair or disloyal.
Because my parents weren’t bad… they were just doing what they could from their own wounds.

Understanding My Parents Through Compassion

It wasn’t until I began my path of introspection that I understood something fundamental:
my parents weren’t perfect. They were human, and they carried their own wounds.
They gave what they could from the level of consciousness and the emotional tools they had.

Healing Doesn’t Erase the Past, It Transforms It

That understanding didn’t erase the pain of my childhood, but it changed the way I told my story.
I stopped narrating it from the wound and began sharing it from wisdom.
From the woman I became.

Today, I am no longer the little girl who felt abandoned.
I am the woman who learned to hold herself, to heal herself, and to walk alongside herself.
The one who learned to look back with love, not with resentment.

Recognizing the Wound Is the First Step

Liberating myself from the pain became possible when I allowed myself to acknowledge that I was speaking from the wound.
A deep wound that only needed to be seen, acknowledged, and embraced.

And even though my father has been gone for many years now, his soul remains alive within me.
I carry his name with pride.

Forgiveness as an Act of Love

By identifying that wound, forgiveness became possible.
Resentment was transformed into respect and admiration.
And with forgiveness came a beautiful liberation—a deeper kind of peace.

Today I see my father as one of my greatest strengths.
And I feel the desire to honor him, by sharing all that he taught me.

What My Father Left Me as a Legacy

  • He taught me how to ride a bike.

  • He pushed me on the swings while I shouted: “Higher, Dad!” and he laughed.

  • He lifted me onto horses, always choosing the biggest one for himself.

  • He always protected me from danger.

  • He carried me on his back while swimming in the pool.

  • Every Sunday, he bought me a balloon, my favorite magazine, and gave me my weekly allowance.

  • He patiently picked me up from parties.

  • He taught me to drive with tenderness and without imposition.

  • He was never authoritarian.

  • He was cheerful, sociable, and a true example of perseverance. Together with my mom, he built a business from scratch—an innate entrepreneur.

Thanks to them, I never lacked anything material. And today I recognize that with gratitude.
Everything he taught me, he did by example.

To Honor Is to Heal

Today I honor him.
I honor the great human being and the beautiful father he was.
And each day I choose to heal, each time I decide to tell my story from love rather than from lack,

I am also embracing him.

And You? How Did You Experience Your Father?

Did you grow up with absences or unspoken words?
Does looking back still hurt, or do you feel there are things left to understand, forgive, or transform?

Remember: you are not your wound.
You are a soul who came to learn from what was lived and to walk forward.

I embrace you from afar.