“Sorry” is a powerful word. It has the capacity to heal, to forgive, and to forget. It allows us to be absolved of our mistakes so that we might find a way to move beyond the moment of our transgression.
Forgiveness seems so simple. If you wrong someone, you apologize (provided that you find yourself at fault), they forgive you, and you put it behind you. Sounds easy, but what happens when “sorry” is not enough? How do you react when the apology you hear does not promote sincerity? Must forgiveness be granted, simply because it was asked for?
Time often heals what words cannot, and time can certainly forget...
...but can time truly forgive?
I find myself at a dangerous crossroads. Nearly five years have passed since that fateful day, and I cannot help but wonder if the right part of leaving turned out to be wrong...
A person can be broken down into several different personality traits, but at my core, I am a simple man; I am a man of principle. I have one line, ONE line, that you do not cross, and he crossed it. Though time has healed the wound, I still remember, and because I still remember, I cannot forgive.
I want to forgive. I want to forgive him so bad that it literally hurts some nights. Here I stand, nearly five years later, and still the decision weighs heavily upon my conscience. He was one of the closest friends I had ever had; shouldn’t that have counted for something? Shouldn’t I have been able to forgive him?
But what would I be without my integrity? What kind of man would I be if I drew one line, only to forgive anybody who crossed it? He had the audacity to test my conviction; in the end, what choice did I have? I could either a) do the hardest thing I have EVER done in my life, but remain true to who I am, or b) preserve a morally bankrupt friendship by condoning the one type of behavior I made clear I would never allow, and though time has given me cause to question the virtue of my decision, I have never once questioned its integrity.
