Forgive. Love. Live.

My stepfather died last Friday night. I haven’t seen him in 35 years, and I talked to him on the telephone just once in the past 20 years. That awkward and difficult conversation took place a couple of weeks ago when I found out he was very sick and near death. When I heard his days on earth were limited, I knew right away that I would call him. But, this was not an easy call to make.

You see, my stepfather was very cruel to me as a kid – emotionally and physically. He battled alcoholism, and his struggles turned into my (and my family’s) struggles. His pain turned into my pain. I could list many examples of the cruelty, but what’s the point? I don’t think he deserves that and it would serve no purpose. Quite honestly, I don’t think I can bear to even write it here.

I will, however, point out that the pain was absolutely unbearable at times. One of the first emotions I recall having as a very young boy was that of fear. I was afraid of him. Mostly, I was afraid I would never feel a father’s love. It was absolutely unbearable for a very long time.

I didn’t see it back then, but the fear and pain caused me to run away from my emotions. It led to me, many years later as an adult, nearly losing my soul. Love is at the core of the soul. No one should ever lose that. And, I almost did. I was THIS close.

So after more than 40 years I stopped running. I got back to my soul, to the love that was present in my earliest days on this planet. We’re all born with it. I had it. But in a flash it was gone, and I lived with that for a long time. On the surface, things were absolutely fine. Inside, though, my soul cried every night.  And just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, a power greater than all of us grabbed me, held me, and whispered to me, “It’s time to stop running. Get back to your soul.” The attempted escape was finally over.

I don’t have words to describe the power behind that love. But, that love definitely surfaced when with trembling hands I dialed the phone number to my stepfather’s hospital room. That love sparkled when he answered and I was able to talk to him. That love shined when I told him I didn’t hate him. That love glowed when I told him about my three wonderful sons. And for a brief instant, only one instant, I think his love peeked at me when he said he was really happy I called. It was nothing more than a glimpse into his soul, but I know I felt love that I had so desperately wanted as a child. It was love I so badly want and need even as an adult.

We talked a bit more, and I wished him well. I told him I’d pray for him. I told him I hoped he prayed to a higher power, to God. When we ended the call I cried like I was five years old again. And when I first heard he died last Friday, I collapsed to my knees and cried even harder. I felt a powerful wave rush through me. I believe it was God washing away my pain, finally and forever. I believe it was God washing away his pain, finally and forever.

Sting wrote a song entitled, “Why Should I Cry for You?” He wrote it for his father after he passed away. I have listened to that song many times in the days since my stepfather died. I’ve also answered some of the questions that the lyrics pose. It’s helped me come to grips with my past, and my present.

Sometimes I see your face.

The stars seem to lose their place.

Why must I think of you?

Why must I?

Why should I?

Why should I cry for you?

I cry for you because I forgive you. I cry for you because I believe your soul is also full of love. I cry for you because I honestly believe your soul is now free and its love will surface, sparkle, shine and glow.

Underneath it all you were a human being. That’s why I think of you. That’s why I cry for you. That’s why I love you.