Please Forgive Me
Pardon me, forgive me...I didn’t mean to. These should all be common phrases, yet I often find them the most daunting to utter. I find it challenging to ask someone to forgive me or to admit that I have done something wrong. It’s much easier to assume that people, in time, will forget the little squabbles and annoyances that I cause. The truth is, people often don’t forget; in fact, most people remember the exact coordinates of the “buried” hatchet.
I used to think that time healed everything; pain, anger, ankles, my fear of speaking Hebrew, my kids’ messy habits and transgressions. The truth is, time can prepare you for the willingness to address these issues, but time in and of itself cannot heal. So, this year, I decided it was time to right a very old wrong.
As a kid, I made many mistakes. There were the usual kid shenanigans like running up and down escalators, sneaking food into my room and not speaking to my parents in a respectful tone of voice. And then there is the incident where I let my anger win, big time.
You see, I had a friend, a good friend, the kind that was happy for me when I got an award and would commiserate with me when I was grounded. We got into a big fight, I don’t remember all the reasons and the ones I do recall were beyond petty. Jealousy and anger caused me to say some very hurtful things that ended the friendship. What was worse, when my parents asked me to apologize, I remained stubborn and refused. Now, twenty-three years later, I put my pride aside and reached out to my estranged friend.
Unfortunately, this story doesn’t have an ending yet. I’m still waiting for a response. I can only speculate why my friend hasn’t reached back. It could be because she is busy or doesn’t remember who I am or the worst possibility, she doesn’t forgive me.
They say that we live and learn. I have learned that holding my tongue is a lot easier than saying I’m sorry. But if I do ever slip and let my anger flow, I hope I have the courage to apologize quickly and not wait another twenty-three years to admit I was wrong; perhaps losing the chance to make it better.