Does it always have to end up this way? Is being damaged just part of the human condition? Or, is it just me and the people I surround myself with? Can I repair myself ? If a Tootsie can forgive the Hutu who cut off her arm with a machete, and who, by the way, also killed her five children, can't I cozy up to the ones who denied my existence and minimized me? One is so much more horrible than the other. I know that instinctively. Intellectually, too. But, and there is always a but, maybe because one is so much more horrible with a hurt so immobilizing, maybe that is what leads to forgiveness. It's either that, or kill yourself. Even so, I am in doubt. I know that hanging on just keeps it with you and yet, won't it will always be with you? Even in some miniaturized form? Can I laugh it away? Maybe and this is just maybe, of course, I have more trouble forgiving because they still can't see me. When I was packing up their house, I found a photograph from when I was 3 years old. I decided to show it to them and they didn't know it was me. But when I was going through the security check at JFK, the TSA agent opened my bag and when he chanced upon the photo, he immediately recognized me. He said, "Look at you!" My own parents thought it was my sister. Folks. Don't you think enough is enough? I am 56 years old. Can't I just forgive them? They didn't cut off my hands or any limbs for that matter. They didn't kill my children, although they claimed their intelligence skipped a generation, meaning me. Did they kill me? Is that why I can't forgive them?
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