Forgiveness.
This letter came the night my father died – it is addressed to me, and it speaks of forgiveness, and of a wound finally allowed to heal.
This letter is unlike any other on this site. It came the night my father died. It is not addressed to you – it is addressed to me, and I have left it that way. I share it because its heart is for everyone: a love that could never be shown, a wound that waited for years, and the forgiveness that finally lets both sides heal.
My father could not show his love. The letter doesn't explain that away, and it doesn't ask me to pretend it didn't hurt. It says something harder and kinder: that he loved me the whole time, that he too – like all of us – chose a heavy task, and that with its completion the wound is free to close. "Amor Fati – Love Your Fate" says something similar in the language of philosophy. This says it as a father's last message.
If there is someone you could never reach, or someone who could never reach you: read this slowly. Where pain was, love can move in. It's okay.
Your father died last night. He wants to let you know that he loves you. That he has always loved you. That he is sorry he could never show it. He wishes you and your sister nothing but the best. He sends you light and love. He watches over you – in the way that is in accord with you. He understands you, he understands your thoughts. He sees your forgiveness, and he knows that you love him too. So this deep wound can now finally heal. For both of you. For all of you. For he forgives himself too, and you as well.
Where pain was, there is now love. Where shadow was, there is now light. His soul is back in the stream of infinity, for it has fulfilled its task on earth. That task was heavy and often painful. But he too – like all of us – chose this task.
He wants to tell you: All is well. And he sees your way: all will be well. You are on the right way. You are doing well. Nothing more is needed. It is a deep exhale. On all levels.
Thank you for being here.
If something in these letters stayed with you, take it along – think about it, write your own answer, or just let it sit.
And if not today, that's okay too. There's no rush.
Until next time,
– Jan