My mother passed away at the age of 96 without ever admitting that she’d made serious errors—first ignoring the obvious signs that I had been sexually abused by her adult cousin, then, when I acted out as a teenager as a result of my repressed trauma, by blaming me for being a “bad” kid. She respected me as an adult but it was always as if those earlier things had never happened. What I have come to understand is that dealing with this cluelessness was itself part of my spiritual growth. Not a hindrance.