Forgiveness

Today's question is What has been the most difficult thing you have had to forgive?

Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself.
Suzanne Somers

I had an idea of what my birth mother felt for me. In my head she didn't love me enough to keep me. Never mind that I was better off, that I had wonderful parents, in my mind growing up I despised her. I thought she was this awful person who tossed aside her child. At times I tried and blamed myself, what was it about me she didn't like? I was a little baby, did I cry too much? Was I ugly? Of course none of that was true. But it's a deep wound within when a parent gives you up.  I wanted to wound her, like she wounded me. I remember when my Grandmother died, she came to the funeral. I was grown by then, with a child of my own, but I was still not mature enough not to hurt. I ignored her completely. I remember at the graveside, I said MOM to my mother many times, very loudly so she would hear I was calling someone else Mom, my Mom, who loved me. Wilma didn't try to speak to me that day. She talked to my brother, and I of course took affront to that. Why didn't she speak to me? I complained about that many times until my Mom finally said to me, "Diane, you didn't give her a chance. You made sure she understood you weren't available to speak to. You turned up your nose and you turned away." Oh wow. I had done that.

A few years ago, she wrote me a letter. Explaining so many things. Would I have done the same thing? Five children under six, no support, a drunk husband? Maybe, maybe not. But I am not Wilma, I never walked in her shoes, I never had to make those decisions. Who am I to judge someone else? Who was I to say she was wrong? It hit me very clearly then, she did what she did, because she loved me. She didn't feel equipped to make a good life for us, when she could barely make a life for herself. My sister told me that on December 5th, my birthday, every year she would shut herself up in her room and cry all day. She missed so much, but sometimes you just have to do, what you have to do. Who I was to withhold forgiveness from her? Did I really want to be that person? No I didn't. One day I may have to be forgiven. And God forgave me. It's like the story in the bible of the man who's tremendous debt was forgiven him, but he decided not to forgive someone who owed him. He was punished severely. By not forgiving my birth mother, I was punishing myself.

She came to my daughter's rehearsal dinner. She hugged me, and every mean thought I ever had melted away in the face of that hug. She held me in her arms, like I'm sure she wished she could have many times. and I wasn't stiff. I hugged her back.