I did a pretty silly thing. I've finally forgiven someone but that's not what's silly.
The person who said sorry to me two months ago had left my life without waiting to hear what I have to say. Even if she did wait long enough I don't think I would have been able to utter the appropriate words right then—well... appropriate as for now, not then. I still can't ascertain what could have been an appropriate response then given the circumstances.
So I wrote her a letter that was never read—and perhaps never will be. And that's a bit silly. The original draft was, believe it or not, penned the very night she plummeted me to my death. To be fair: it was a very long night. And what came out was probably not the most forgiving thing anyone could manage on paper. Luckily that wasn't the version that got signed and sealed.
Appropriate as this gesture is a thing to do, appropriateness isn't the reason behind it. I could have held my peace about it for the rest of my life without ever willing to forgive. But then what rights have I to deny someone her pardon, even if she wasn't looking for it, when I was undeniably grateful for what immense beauty I was left with, just in as equal an extent as I was nicked by the sting?
There's this little hope that she would somehow know that she's been forgiven and could go on living the life she chose without the slightest trail of guilt. That would in turn help me to forgive myself.
Labels: just thinking