Give people strength to consider their troubled past

I am the grandmother of a 25-year-old young lady with two precious children. We raised her because her mother was not mentally stable - drugs and bipolar. Her mother was neglectful and put her daughter in harm's way being hostile and mean- spirited. Her daughter is aware of all of this and at one time was at Child Haven until we were able to get her through the Las Vegas Family Court. She occasionally talks with her mother, but there is no relationship and she is always upset after each call.

My daughter - her mother - calls me often and is almost always sweet with me. I respond in kind even though I know she is a troubled soul. My question is, should I destroy all this hurtful evidence of (the granddaughter's) early years or give it to her because it is part of her life? We are not interested in being her hero, but we don't want to hurt her even more and give her a constant reminder of her life and reason to resent her mother even more. I've suggested to her that she create distance at this time from her mother because of the toxic nature of her calls. I feel she needs to protect herself. Your valued opinion, please! - M.K., Henderson

You make me think of an analogy.

Years ago, I met a mother who lost a teenage son in a car accident. He was killed instantly, thrown from the car. His head was traumatized, mangled, misshaped, beyond the skills of the most gifted mortician - a vision no mother should ever see or want to see.

That was my opinion, anyway. But the mother wanted to see her boy. Wanted and needed to say goodbye. The folks at the morgue resisted. She demanded. And so she was referred to me. I think everybody was hoping I'd talk her out of it. What I did instead was respect her. We talked. With her permission, I went to the morgue alone. I beheld the boy's insulted form and returned to meet with the mother again.

I told her that all the choices were hers. That she was in charge of her memories. I told her that she could decide what pictures she would allow into her mind and what pictures she preferred to exclude from her mind. I told her that her decisions would be important, consequential and weighty. I urged her to give pause with these decisions.

I told her what she would see, should she choose to see. Gently, slowly, with sufficient clarity yet absent macabre detail, I told her the boy's visage was a painful distortion of the son she loved and would remember. I told her that beholding him would entail being responsible for the memory of doing so, that she would have to manage this memory and the risk of harm this memory might well provoke. We discussed options.

And she decided. And that's how I respected her. I respected her right to decide. I equipped her, as best I could, to make an informed decision that was in her own best interest for a healing grief. She was free now, to see as much, or as little, as she decided.

She directed the morgue to present the body with the face covered, one arm exposed. She held her boy's hand, caressed it, weeping, saying her goodbye. This was important to her soul.

Your granddaughter is like that mother. She must find a way to manage the "accident" that cost her the mother she needed and deserved. To live well, she must say goodbye to that hope. And she is old enough to decide how much of that vision she wants to behold.

Sit down with her. Tell her how much you admire her heroic journey. Tell her you have the records. Give her a broad understanding of what those records contain. Ask her to spend some time considering whether that information, however unhappy and painful, might ever be necessary for her healing and wholeness. Or whether you have her permission to simply discard it. If she wants to see it, urge her not to behold it alone, to include you to look through it together so you can answer any questions and offer support.

M.K., you have been an instrument of redemption in your granddaughter's life. Respect her now, by handing her the responsibility for the whole of her life.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Las Vegas Psychiatry and the author of "Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing" (Stephens Press). His columns also appear on Sundays in the Las Vegas Review-Journal. Contact him at 227-4165 or skalas@reviewjournal.com.