Today I Forgive My Father
It’s a perilous journey but in the end, Forgiving is less painful than holding on.
On the occasion of his birthday, I forgive my father. In forgiving him, I forgive his parents for treating him harshly, belittling his talent, ignoring his dreams while rationing out slivers of dazzling love. I know it was dazzling because when it was reflected on me, I was blinded by it. I forgive his grandparents and their grandparents, I forgive them all, for their mean stifling ways handed down through the ages from one generation to the next.
Forgiveness liberates my breath. Forgiveness overcomes the barrier of hate and hurt lodged in my heart.
Once committed, forgiveness soothes the wound, eases the injury. It’s a perilous journey but in the end, Forgiving is less painful than holding on.
That time he said he would break my spirit he was just showing off to his friend. He wasn’t even angry,
At four-years-old I didn’t even know what my spirit was, but pictured it shattered like an old-fashioned phonograph record or cracked so you can put it on the turntable, but it won’t play right.
I forgive him for all those times he was too scary and rough. all those times he said upsetting humiliating things not out of anger but out of habit. I don’t think he knew how damaging his words were.
And all those times out of anger, pain and spite, he withheld his love.
And all those times he touched me and talked about me inappropriately, mirroring how he had been treated by his parents and siblings. Forgiving him, loosens my grip on the hard meanness turned in on itself, our family birthright.
Only then, I remember his tears as my daughter and I said goodbye after our last visit.
Only then I remember his holding me when I was little, his face close to mine, his arms, his breath, his tenderness. I know how much he loved me and I so loved him.
Until he hugs too tight, pretends to drop me, plays too rough, finds me unlovable.
Forgiving him, relieves the devastating hurt.
And only then am I able to forgive myself for all the times I’ve been too brusque, too rough, too uncaring, too withholding.
Only then am I able to forgive myself for all the times I’ve wounded my beloveds.