I stood looking at him in a mixture of shock, fear, and embarrassment. What in God's name was he doing? I understood that he was lying on his potential death bed in the hospital. But I couldn't believe he had the nerve to bring up the past after all these years - especially in front of my mother (without being specific). I thought he was obviously out of his mind due to the morphine he was on.


Oh, I see. He felt the need to ask for my forgiveness, confess his sins to God, and pray that he still had a chance to get into Heaven. OK - I told him I forgave him (for his sake or mine?). But trust me, I will never forget or pardon his actions...ever.


At some point in my adulthood, I found myself engulfed in the midst of an horrific abusive cycle that had been compounding for many years, I came to realize that the first real step to be taken in shattering this pattern was to recognize and take control of it - and to stop letting IT control me. This would be the hardest job of my life (ongoing still). But I intend to get there.