What I Wish I Knew About Forgiveness Before My Mom Died
Remember these things when you don’t feel like letting go.
I left home just after my 18th birthday under very controversial circumstances. To my mom, it was good riddance. For me, it was a premature and unprepared entry to adulthood.
For the next ten years, I plowed through life — alone, outside the comfort of my immediate family.
Within that period, I went through college without as much as a letter from “home”. I could have dropped out of college if I wanted — nobody in my immediate family would have bothered.
The pain of betrayal, rejection, and the frustration of facing life alone created a huge load of anger and frustration.
By a stroke of miracle, lack of family support was not a significant deficiency — at least not financially.
Ten years down the road, I started thriving. Then “family” became generally more accessible. We were becoming “family” once again.
I had been re-admitted into the fold. But I was still hurting, weighed down with the unresolved mysteries surrounding how I became an outcast.
The call that changed everything
A call from a hospital in the middle of a busy day was the last thing I wanted.
I remembered mom had a mild fever and needed a quick check-up at the hospital. The doctors decided she needed bed rest. She would be alright. I planned to collect her from the hospital that Saturday and take her to my new home.
Mom had not acknowledged me as a son for over a decade. I wanted her to be proud of me. I wanted to tell her all about the interesting things that were beginning to happen in my life.
I hoped she could help me understand what happened to us. I needed to understand why it was so difficult for me to fit into the family. My heart ached to know why my experience of the family was different from that of my other siblings.
I had waited for the right moment and it was finally going to happen.
As I navigated the lunchtime traffic out of the busy central business district to the hospital, my mind began to wander. From the unfinished report on my desk which was due that day, to the forthcoming professional examination, there was so much to be done. There was simply no time to manage an unexpected crisis. ‘No, I cannot allow myself to have these negative thoughts,’ I argued with myself.
After the nurse on duty made me sign some forms, she stepped out of the cubicle. ‘Please follow me,’ she said.
At this point, the reality started sinking in, but I followed her anyway without asking further questions.
We got to a room marked “Private”. The Nurse opened the door with a lot of caution than expected. It was like she needed some unspoken permission from the occupant of the room.
She finally pushed the door open and beckoned on me to step in.
‘I am sorry, your mom passed on a few hours ago. Please accept our condolences. Please do let us know if you want to use our ambulance service to evacuate the remains to the morgue.’
The floor of the hospital ward smelled like an ocean of sterilizers. It didn’t matter. My legs could not carry me anymore. I collapsed into the floor and stayed there.
The tears flowed as it dawned on me that I had lost an opportunity that can never be regained.
It was too late. Too late to have a mother. Too late to be a son.
We were not going to have that mother and son talk anyway. There are now no more questions to ask. There are no hidden family truths to uncover. I will never know what influenced some of those decisions that nearly upended my own life.
Unforgiveness carries the seed of regrets.
My mom’s sudden demise left me with a deep and insatiable desire to make things right.
It didn’t matter what had happened. It didn’t matter how I had felt for ten years. The deep sense of irreparable loss was overwhelming.
By this time, what mom did or did not do was of no relevance. I was going to live with what I should have done while she was still alive.
I came out of the experience with valuable life lessons.
Don’t wait for an apology — it may never come.
Before her passing, I visited my mom several times at her home. We talked, laughed, and even ate together. I was expecting her to say something. I thought I would only get closure if she apologized for everything I had gone through.
It never happened.
Either she thought I deserved what happened to me, or she reckoned that ten years was enough to heal my pain.
Sincere forgiveness isn’t colored with expectations that the other person apologizes or change. Don’t worry whether or not they finally understand you. Love them and release them. Life feeds back truth to people in its own way and time.
- Sara Paddison
Be proactive.
I was passive. I expected everyone to relate with me as a victim that I thought I was.
While nursing my pain, I forgot an important fact. The rejection and betrayal didn’t kill me. I was homeless for a bit. But I made it out safe. I was even in a better place. I was no longer a victim — my life was so much better.
I had an opportunity to take the initiative but I bungled it.
Offer forgiveness as a gift.
If there is one thing you can do to heal yourself from past hurt, it is to forgive unconditionally at the first opportunity.
This is what Nelson Mandela did when he regained freedom in 1990 after 27 years in prison for resisting apartheid in South Africa.
The man spent his entire youthful life behind bars. The first project he embarked on following his release from prison was forgiveness and reconciliation with the same system that incarcerated him.
Here is what he had to say:
When a deep injury is done to us, we never heal until we forgive.
- Nelson Mandela
Be brave.
Indira Gandhi once said that “forgiveness is a virtue of the brave.”
If I knew better, I would have been proactive. I would have risen above the pain. I would have offered forgiveness as a gift without expecting anything in return.
