26/05/2026
Today is National Sorry Day, officially recognised as the National Day of Healing, commemorating the Stolen Generations. It is an important day of reflection and part of the ongoing journey towards reconciliation between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians. Pathway Plumbing Service Plumber Keith Morgan shares a powerful personal insight into how this day impacts him and his family.
Sorry Day 2026 for me 🫶😔
❗Warning may trigger mob
The impacts of the Stolen Generations have deeply scarred my family in ways that still live within us today. The trauma both my mother and grandmother carried never ended with them— it echoed through generations, shaping the way we loved, connected, trusted, and survived. So much was stolen from them before they ever had the chance to simply be daughters, mothers and children surrounded by love, culture, and safety. Instead, pain, separation and silence became part of our family story, and the fractures left behind still run deep. I often sit and wonder who we all could have been if those things had never happened to them. Maybe our family would have known more peace. Maybe we would have been closer. Maybe so much hurt could have been avoided.
My mum rarely spoke about what she went through because the pain was too unbearable to relive out loud. She carried it silently, buried deep inside herself, and like many Aboriginal people impacted by intergenerational trauma, alcohol and other drugs became a way to numb pain that was never given the chance to heal properly. But trauma doesn’t stay with one person — the ripple effects spread through entire families. It shaped our home, our relationships, and the way we all carried pain without fully understanding it.
I lost my mother last year, and deep down I truly feel like she died carrying a broken heart. A heart weighed down by trauma, grief, loss, and years of pain she never got the chance to properly heal from. Losing her has left a hole in me that words can’t fully explain. As much as I loved my mum, there will always be sadness inside me wishing we could have had a closer and healthier relationship. I wish trauma had not stood between us. I wish she could have found peace.
I grew up in foster care from the age of 2 right through to 20 years old, and there has always been a deep abandonment wound inside me because of it. No matter how much time passes, there’s still a little boy inside of me longing for the love, comfort and nurturing he missed from his mother. Sometimes I catch myself sitting quietly, staring off into the distance, thinking about that little boy, and wishing he had been held more, loved more, and protected more. Those thoughts hit me deeply and still bring emotion to the surface because that pain never fully leaves you. It changes you. There’s a loneliness that comes from growing up disconnected from family, culture, and a sense of belonging, and at times it feels like I’ve spent my whole life trying to fill spaces that trauma created long before I was even born.
When this day comes around each year, the grief sits heavy on my chest. I grieve not only for what my mother and grandmother lost, but for the version of our family that never got the chance to exist. I grieve the memories we never made, the closeness we never had, and the healing that should have been passed down instead of pain. Yet through all of it, I still carry enormous pride in my people, my culture and the resilience of Aboriginal people who continue to survive despite generations of trauma designed to break us.
So, before people judge our mob or stereotype Aboriginal people from the outside looking in, I ask them to stop and truly educate themselves on the impacts of intergenerational trauma across Australia. The pain of the Stolen Generations did not end when policies changed — it lives on in families, in grief, in addiction, in foster care, in broken connections and in the silent battles many of us still fight every day. Behind every struggle is often generations of pain, survival, and loss that many people will never fully understand.
