Forgive Me

Forgiveness is not my problem. Or maybe it is, but not in the normal sense. I forgive too much, too easily, too often without accessing the problem. I never think how things must change. If nothing changes then the need for forgiveness is inevitable.

I forgave him the first time he cheated.

I forgave him all the times after that.

I even forgave him when he snuck the mistress in my room when my mother came home early to surprise him.

I forgave him for the Pethidine again and again.

I forgave him when she got sick and he left me.

I forgave him when he did not come back for me.

I forgave him for not even thinking about me.

I forgave him when he took all her money and did not send any for groceries.

I forgave him when my brothers’ friends were doing grocery shopping just to keep her alive.

I forgave him after finding the pictures of his vacation with his mistress.

I forgave him for lying about not being able to come home.

I forgave him for letting her die.

I forgave him for inviting his mistress to the funeral.

I forgave him for taking such good care of my brother after he got the same sickness that killed her, the care he just did not give to her.

I forgave him for bringing his mistress into my mothers’ house.

I forgave him for getting his mistress pregnant.

I forgave him for letting his mistress tell me on my birthday, the birthday I shared with my mother.

I forgave him for making his mistress, his wife.

I even forgave him for never being a father.

It not that I am tired of forgiving. I just realized that the problem was that he was never sorry. There was never a moment of regret or shame with him. If he is not sorry, he will do it again. Does that not make me the fool? I just do not give him enough room to need my forgiveness now. I do not hate him or resent him. I just do not; when it comes to him...I just do not. I just cannot. How many times have I heard “they can only hurt you as much as you let them”, how many times have I said it? Well it is true! Life has given me a choice, my life or my father. And I choose life. There is just no room for both. I hope he can forgive me, but even if he cannot I will not be around to notice.

I love him, I was made to, that comes naturally to me, more naturally then loving myself but I am learning still. Learning to love him less and love me. And it will come because I made my choice, the right choice. The only choice...really.

Dear Men