Musings of the Smart Girl with Pink Hair and High Heels (Death and Forgiveness)

I was told a story once…

He was an old man, had lived to his eighties. A miracle. He had seen many days, heartaches, and joys. He had family to love, especially a beautiful and kind-hearted daughter.

The fateful day that changed it all was one that seemed like any other, but this day held a sinister overtone. The drug and addiction flooded a young man’s body. He wasn’t in his right mind and all he desired was to get more, be more. What hardships had influenced him into his selfish decisions? Did he realize what he was doing as he held the knife? Did it just hold a sparkling gleam that demanded him to slice? What was going through his corrupted and destroyed brain?

The blade pierced the paper-thin layer of skin. The arteries burst and blood gushed. The old man’s eyes rolled back in his head as he convulsed. The last look on his face was one of utter disbelief. What were his last thoughts? In his last breath, did he forgive? Did he see the torture in the eyes of his killer? Did his eighty years give him the insight to see past the drug induced insanity before him?

Maybe my questions touch on the fiction I have crafted, but it doesn’t change the hard fact that forgiveness is the only freedom. The pain of the ones left behind can’t be lessened by hate or revenge.

The culprit may have killed, but what really had led him to that point? What’s the rest of the story? Did he lose his job and fell into depression because he couldn’t provide for those he loved. Did the drug seem like a nice release to him? Could he have just lost his soul-mate or a child? Did he feel alone in this vast world? Who did he turn to when he cried out in pain, before the drugs stole that role? What path did he take that led up to that one irreversible moment?

We all have baggage that we lug on our weary shoulders, but some turn to destructive means to give themselves the illusion of strength. Was he one of those? Even if he wasn’t and he was despicable enough to love the death of a defenseless, aged man, he still has to be extended the gift of forgiveness for the sake of those who can never forget. They can never feel closure or move on if they can’t forgive.

In hearing this story, I saw the gleam of pain in her eyes. She said it had been a few years and that the time had helped to heal her. But behind those words, I could see the smoldering hatred for the evil actions of that man. She hadn’t forgiven him and it just caused her more pain. One day maybe she will finally realize that forgiving will give her release, even though it will be one of the hardest things she has ever done.