I finally got the courage to ask my father for forgiveness last night.
It's nearly been a year and a whole month since I took up offenses that were not mine to take and acted unjustly to my father. Ever since that day, I have been trying to make up for my mistake but always fearing what would happen if I brought it up.
At first I tried to tell myself that he was in the wrong, and I was trying to protect my sister and be there for her. She was and is my best friend. If I were to admit my wrong, I'd be admitting that her pain was wrong as well. I also tried to tell myself that he didn't notice my semi-passive aggressive words and hateful silence. But the thing is, my dad and I are the same. Of course he felt every ounce of my hardened heart.
A week later, I was weeping every night sick with regret. All I wanted to do was to scream, "I'm sorry!" and take back my childish actions. I can still see the look on his face when he turned to me for validation and I returned nothing. I left him alone, and my heart will always break for this.
Finally, it hit me. How many times have I made mistakes and looked to my dad for validation? He was and is always there with me to love me and to see me through it. In an instant, I turned my back on him...something he would never do to me.
It's been over a year of searching for the right moment to say I'm sorry. Every hug, I squeezed a little tighter. Every conversation, I dug in a little deeper. He had to know how awful I felt, right?
Last night, I apologized. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get it out there.
As usual, he was dad. The ever loving, always compassionate man that he has never ceased to be.
He knew what I had done, he has loved me anyway.
Thank you for being you.