Forgiveness

by Yi Lee
(Massachusetts)

Two years ago in the early summer was one of the last chapters of my life. In fact it was the best one it could be because I was graduating from high school. I finally finished high school and was happy, but not happy for just myself, but for my family who wanted to see me there to walk across the stage and accept my diploma. As I walked onto the stage, I felt proud because I made it and felt proud doing so. As the graduation ceremony was over I went out to have lunch with Amy, my cousin just two years older than me.

We had just finished lunch and Amy received a phone call and informed me in a sullen voice, “Shit, grandpa is dead.” The first thing that came to my mind wasn’t why he died because I already knew why he was dying and how, but it was my mother; the mother whom I never got along with and distanced myself with. It became crystal clear that on the day of my graduation it was not my day anymore, but it was hers’. Her father just died.

My mother and I never had a good relationship. I was the middle child so the responsibilities were always on my shoulder. Whether it was taking care of my sister, cooking, cleaning, etc. If something were not up to her standards I would get the blame for it because my younger sister could not help and my older sister went to work with my mom. But as a child, you want to have fun and not be stuck in the house and clean. But it did not matter to her because I had to do it. If I did not do it, I would be struck with her hand and be yelled at. This is what caused me to dislike my mother, to distant myself from her. To not love her as much as I love my dad, I say that because at some point in my childhood my mother and I did not speak. I hated her with a passion. As years passed so did that passion of hatred.

As we got closer to home from the lunch, all I could think of was getting into the house and let her know that her father was dead. I got into my house into my living room and already seeing tears in her eyes and I knew that she was informed of the news, her father had just passed. I could not help but being sad, but I did not shed a tear. I just could not. Something was stopping me from doing so. I know now that I was trying to strong for her, the woman that I call my mother, the woman I distanced myself from for many years. I was now there for her because I know now that family matters more.

Since I cannot tell what anyone what they should do in their personal lives, I am just going to offer some advice. Family will always be family no matter what. You can forgive now and maybe forget later or maybe not. Either way, when something unsuspecting happens, just do what you think is right. Stubbornness will always be there, but when death comes along people you care about won’t be anymore.