2021/1/19
Today is January 19th.
I won't forgive you.
You are weak and you are insignificant.
Today is January 19th and I am told by those who should know that I must forgive the man who did this.
He's in prison.
That's where he needs to be.
It's obvious that all this hatred is so misguided.
His actions are truly despicable.
How can I even conceive of forgiving someone who was so misguided and cruel?I guess I can't.
I suppose I'll just have to remember that night when he held me by the throat and ran me up against a wall, and remember that awful face screaming in my face, the way he dragged me along.
I'll never forget his hand around my throat, but in time, maybe years, maybe decades, I can let the rage and hate and venom of the world creep away and forget all about you.
I won't forgive you.
Forgiveness is what I need, but you, you don't need it.
You aren't suffering.
You don't hurt.
You're not scared.
You have everything.
You want revenge, but you don't have to.
It's okay.
I'm not blaming you.
If you want to die, that's okay.
You deserve it.
I'd rather be with someone who will let me go in peace than be with you.
Today is January 19th, 2021.
You are a coward.
You have no idea of the pain you're inflicting on me.
It would be a mercy if you took your own life.
I won't forgive you.
Please don't try to contact me.
I will make it as difficult as possible.
Please think about the children, the little children.
You will make them face you in the courtroom.
You will make them listen to your lies.
They will know what a monster you are.
That night, when I was kicked into the wall, by his hand around my throat, I will remember that horrible, disgusted look on your face when you told me to forgive you.
But I won't.
I don't believe in forgiveness.
And I hope you never forgive yourself for what you did.
Your loving motherSeveral years ago, my father sent me a Christmas card with the handwritten message, "Love, Dad.
"The return address showed it came from his office at the university where I was teaching.
Although I never expected to hear from him, I simply typed out my return address and sent the card on its way.
A few days later I received a letter from my father.
In it he said he was writing to apologize for the way he had lived his life.
He confessed that he had been angry with me and felt I had shamed him in my mother's memory by my marriage.
He said he had paid for a private detective to dig into my past and to discover what I had done to embarrass him in my parents' eyes.
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