To Forgive is To Accept

Maria Kelsik was the therapist on the Gorgon High School. She helped young students face the difficulties in their life. A couple of students dropped by every day, talking about their problems. She always helped them the best she could, and most of the time, that was good enough.

She didn’t know why she had chosen this job. When she was a kid, she wanted to be an astronaut, a ballerina, or an actress. Now, in an age of 30, she sat behind a desk, listening to others misery.

Maybe the reason she did it was that others misery made her forget her own sad life. Her mother left her, twenty years ago, and she hadn't talked to her since. She hadn’t talked to her father either, because she blamed him for her mother’s disappearance.

“Mrs Kelsik?” the girl in front of her looked at her curiously.

“I’m sorry,” Maria said, “I’ve got a lot on my mind,”

“So I can see,” the girl answered. What was her name again? Johanna something, she thought. “What exactly, is on your mind?”

“Nothing important,” Maria assured her. “We’re here to talk about you,”

“Not today,” Johanna something answered, “Let’s talk about you for a change,”

“I’m the therapist, you’re the student,” Maria said.

“You’re afraid,” Johanna guessed.

“I’m sorry?” Maria looked at the tiny girl in front of her. Was this really happening?

“You’re afraid to face the truth. That is why you are going to tell me what’s on your mind,” Johanna explained.

“Never going to happen,” Maria said. Johanna looked at her, with pity in her eyes, as if she felt sorry for her.

Maria sighed, and then she told her the whole story:

She told her about the yelling, which had last for weeks. She told her about her parents, screaming at each other, believing their son and daughter didn’t listen. She told her about waking up one day, realising her mum was gone. She told her about her father, pretending as if nothing had happened. She remembered that all the pictures of her mum were gone, and that speaking her name became illegal. She told Johanna about the fight she had with her father. The fight that had made her run away. She had told her father how mad he was at him, for not looking for her mother. How mad she was he hadn’t tried to take her back. She had taken her little brother, Thomas, and left. At the age of eleven, she had started a life on her own.

“Wow,” Johanna said when she was done talking, “That’s quite a story,”

Maria took a deep breath. This was the first time she ever told someone about her life, and this someone turned out to be a 15-year-old girl with self-esteem issues. It felt as if a something heavy finally left her stomach.

“I know what you got to do,” Johanna said, “Because you are totally wrong. Your real problem is that you’re weak,”

“I’m not weak,” Maria said protectively.

“I didn’t say so,” Johanna answered, “Mahatma Gandhi did: “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong”. I think you’re strong Mrs Kelsik, but I think you should prove that too Gandhi,”

“What do you mean, Johanna?” Maria asked.

“I mean it’s time for you to forgive your father,” she said, “The only reason he acted the way he did, was because he loved your mother. He loved her so much that speaking her name hurt and looking for her made him think of what he’d lost. You have to forgive him Mrs Kelsik, or he’ll never be able to forgive himself.”

A couple days later, Maria stood in front of the house where she’d grown up. On the mailbox, the name Kelsik was written in red letters. She knocked on the door three times. A part of her couldn’t wait to see her father again. Another part wished he wouldn’t open.

He did open. An old version of her dad stood in the door. His hair had turned grey, but the rest of him looked the same. When he recognized Maria, he smiled a smile she’d thought she would never see again, and she felt his arms around her a way she’d thought she would never feel them again.

“Oh, my little girl,” he whispered, “I’m so, so, so sorry,”

“Don’t be sorry, dad,” she said, “I forgive you,”