Day 3: Something you have to forgive yourself for.
I haven’t been a great person. Sometimes I’m just marginally an okay one. So this is a list I keep close to me. I know what’s on it. And maybe one day these will be forgiven. But today is not that day.
Day 4: Something you have to forgive someone for.
And despite the above, I have no one else at this moment to forgive. It’s all been done. You see, I have had no trouble eventually forgiven others. Maybe it’s because I’m old. Maybe because two years ago was a bitchfest of a year, but in the end, it really only can come down to you.
I understand the ‘If they ask it shall be forgiven’ thing. I do. I was like that when I was younger. The only problem is that unless it’s something like ‘I broke your car’ or ‘yeah that ketchup on the sweater was totally me’, most folks are either to embarrassed to ask for forgiveness or just plain don’t get that they messed up. At all. No light bulb moments for them. And the only one carrying the knowledge of wrong doing is you. Or me, as the case may be.
One of the many times I was in the hospital that bad, bad year, I woke up at 3AM and was having trouble breathing. I told the nurse and as I waited for someone to fix this, it became worse and worse. By the time mom came to see me, I couldn’t even move and was turning a lovely grey blue color. Finally I was given breathing treatments and after two of them was much better. I had eluded being vented by about 20 minutes. Whew!
What does this have to do with anything? You might think I’m going to say I was mad at the the doctor’s for not being faster or some such thing. But you would be wrong.
See, before mom showed up, I was thinking basically, “Don’t let me die yet. I want to be better. What will Jess do? And my friends. I don’t want them sad. And please I don’t want mom to be alone. Not both of us gone. Not that.” And there were two people I had not forgiven at that point. They, however, did not cross my mind at all. It was the ones I love. The ones that are my life that were in my thoughts. The others, the ones that caused pain and sorrow beyond endurance (or so it seemed at the time) simply did not matter in the end.
And what if I had died? I seriously don’t think they were suddenly going to be over taken by some need to be forgiven by me. They would not be on their knees beating their chests crying out “ I should have asked! Why did I not ask for the forgiveness to give my life meaning! Oh the tragedy!”
The only one lamenting the tragedy would be gone. They would just go about their lives. Washing the car, picking the kids up from school, having a cheeseburger and fries.
Eventually I did my forgiving.
Again. Maybe because I’m old too. I have no desire to carry around what is no longer mine to carry. My bag is quite full thank you.