Forgiveness

And the saga continues…  just when I thought things were leveling off to what seemed like a livable situation between the father and the husband, another time bomb explodes.

I had been doing a lot around the house to compensate for all the things my husband won’t do anymore due to the “war” between him and my father.  I cook, get groceries, clean, AND work my full time job which requires traveling on occasion. My father nor husband really never noticed the amount of extra work I had been doing as a result of their childish war with each other, but that’s another blog post. But today something different happened. I offered to drive my dad to the store to get him more water, and he suggested that he go with my husband to get water instead. He said the water was heavy and that as a woman, I shouldn’t be doing this job. Then he said he wanted to reconcile with my husband so I wouldn’t be doing both his and my own chores. Funny that he didn’t notice how much I had been doing until I was about to do something that he could relate to in his time, as something that a woman shouldn’t be doing. I felt touched about that.

Then we got into a deeper discussion around reconciliation. In his angry tone, he demanded that I call my husband in the room so I could mediate their reconciliation, but I knew deep in my heart that neither of them were in the right frame of mind for any attempt to a truce. My father held deep anger in his face, and my husband yelled comments from the other room. Both of them were children of the same age, competing for power. But both of them were powerless nonetheless, and neither of them realized it.

My father’s chest started to hurt. He sprayed some nitrogliscerin in his mouth and sat down. Then he ordered me out of his room. I said “What about the water?” and he pushed me out of his room demanding that he would carry the water home himself.

A few minutes later, he came out of his room again with his shoes and coat on. I approached him and asked him again “What about the water?” And he yelled from the top of his lungs: “I AM MAD!” then he pushed me out of the way with so much force that he almost fell over.

I let him go. I have no idea where he is going, but it’s cold out and the sun is setting. Somehow, I feel cradled by the universe. I know everything is going to be ok. I’m a little frustrated with how messy things have gotten, but I know this is the path that we have all chosen. Sometimes I wish my husband was a little more understanding of him because between the two of them, I find that he has more tools to work with. But they both carry the boyish energy of trying to gain power over one another.

My father is a man who is set in his ways and will possibly never change. He lives with a perception that we are still in World War II. I wish there was something I could do to help him find peace. Sometimes I question my own reactions towards him. Perhaps I am no better than my husband in that, I need to find more understanding and compassion for him as well since I do have the tools to work with, and he doesn’t.

What I need to do is forgive myself for anything that I’m unconsciously blaming myself for, and to realize that the Divine only creates perfect experiences for us, and this is just another perfect experience in which I can gain wisdom. I also forgive my father, for he is only trying his best to live in a changing world that thinks very differently from him.  I just hope I have enough time to help him find peace. And I hope he finds an opening in his heart to start loosening some of his deep deep anguish and resentment.

When he left the house just now after pushing me away, the dog (his dog) ran after him. I ran after the dog, and when we both caught up to my father, my father said to me: “You are not my daughter” in the angriest of tones. Somehow, that didn’t hurt me as much as that would normally have hurt. I guess because I know that I still am, and I am holding on to the desire to find peace for him more than I want peace for myself.

I sobbed when I got back to the house – but it was a different kind of sob. It was almost a sadness sob, a cry for him because he himself won’t cry.