When to Forgive?

Recently a former girlfriend from my high school days messaged me on Facebook. The contents were the same as the message she sent to me previously on Facebook, to my email, to my dead account on emotional-sucker spam site, Classmates (dawt commmmm). Mainly something about how I look in whatever photo associated with that account, hoping my life is well, missing me and platitudes about the wrongs which led to me rather abruptly severing all communication with her on day about 13 years ago.

In every case I’ve ignored her message.  Really, what does it take for someone to get the hint?  You’d think the utter and complete silence from me for over a decade would clue people in.  Well, that and the fact that I know that sometime after making my decision I explained, in detail, why it was made and that I never wanted to hear from her again.  Details which won’t be expressed here.  Those who aught to know them do.  Those who don’t know don’t need to know.  They are not germane to my present quandary.

See, I too have been rather forcibly ejected from someone’s life.  It was around the same time 13 years ago, maybe a year or two later, that I befriended two people, husband and wife, who had a rather profound impact upon my life.  I won’t say they had as much influence on my life as my parents, no one really does.  But after having met them and spending time with them my world view was altered, my way of approaching the world shifted.  I guess the best word to describe that impact would be that they were mentors to me.

Then one day I did something, said something.  The wife of the pair said she never wanted to speak to me again.  The husband was much more cordial.  He spoke to me.  However he would not explain what I had said or done to his wife to have her so utterly sever her friendship with me.  He said that was up to her to explain to me if she so chose.  A position I respect to this day even if I have never understood the reasons it happened.  It is a sore patch of memory I worry over from time to time, like one does any other persistent hurt.  I longed then, and still do now to some degree, to be forgiven.  Or, at the very least, have whatever I had done explained so I may offer a sincere apology.

I am a different person.  This is obvious to pretty much anyone who has recollection of themselves from a decade past.  Not so different as before but certainly more refined in my beliefs and much harder on myself for my mistakes.  Simply I am not so young and stupid and inconsiderate.

But does that not also apply to this woman whom I have written of as not worth having in my life?  How can I simultaneously desire some sort of dialog in one case based in part of the changes life has wrought in me without also entertaining the notion that similar changes might have occurred in the other?  If I feel I am…  I cannot think of the word to fit there.  Owed?  No.  Deserving?  Worthy?  No.  Each implies that I am entitled to something which can only be judged and granted by another; certainly not entitled.  If I desire that contact should I not entertain the notion of granting it when someone feels the same of me?

Maybe that is the wrong question.  Maybe I am right in my decision then.  Maybe the answer isn’t “should I entertain the notion of once again talking to this person I left behind years ago” but rather “should I let go of the idea that the person who let me go so many years ago should talk to me?”


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