In the depths of illness, I became a vile person. I was nasty to everyone and took offence to everything. And then there was one final straw and I broke. Details are not important but it was many things over many years. I had had enough. I told this person that I never ever wanted to hear from her ever again. We'd been mistaken for sisters. Now we were strangers. My mother stayed in contact with her, much to my disgust.
Just under 18 months ago, there was a little voice in my head "Talk to her. It's time" I was afraid but I sent a simple message: "It's been a long time. How are you?" Conversation was short, to the point, unnatural. But it was a start. Things had changed, we were both at very different points in life, and still forgiveness did not come. Conversation continued over the next months. Stilted, long gaps between replies. Eventually the friend request on Facebook- a sure sign of mending broken relationships, right?
I made excuses for a long time. I worked odd shifts, I couldn't afford to get home, I had other commitments. I'm unemployed, and have infinite time. I couldn't put it off any longer. Today was the day. I've not quite gotten to forgiveness but I was prepared for this to be an ok meeting. Mother came along as mediator/support. It was a perfectly pleasant meeting. We had lunch. I got to meet her daughter. And that was it. It was underwhelming. I hoped I'd be closer to forgiveness. Instead I was reminded of the pain, the sadness, the frustration. I was not prepared for the flashbacks; all the insensitive comments, and the reminder that I'll never be good enough for my mother. I'm damaged goods. I was hopeful for healing, the start of mending. Instead I was left with deeper wounds. Can forgiveness come from this situation? I have no idea. This is not how I expected to end today, but that is how the day has ended.
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