Forgiveness is a word people hand you like a pamphlet. They press it into your hands and walk away as if they have done something. They never stay long enough to hear how the word torments a parent who has lost a child.
In the beginning, after no contact with family or friends for five months, my Mom called asking why I hadn’t called and asked if I was coming for Christmas. It dawned on me that for more than twenty five years I had been the one to call my family. I called home every two weeks. I called my brothers regularly. In this intense grief, I had no energy for that or anything else. I barely did my eight hours work each day without completely falling apart, and often I had to step away to recompose myself.
No contact for five months seemed cold, but Thanksgiving and Christmas was worse. We went to my in-laws’ for Thanksgiving and my family for Christmas. At both places I had few that would talk with me, but I could always count on my nephews and nieces. If I walked in a room, certain ones would always walk out. A few would talk about anything but Caleb, others said very little. We left after three days of this, earlier than planned.
Not long after the cops told us Caleb died, Donna and I discussed whether we would tell people about his suicide and suffer the stigma attached to it, or say he drowned. We knew telling the truth was going to be a hard and lonely road. If we said he drowned we knew people would be much more supportive. We had seen this story too many times to pretend otherwise. Well, we thought we knew how difficult the truth would be. I knew people at our jobs might treat us different. Some church people are stuck in the myths of it being an unforgivable sin. I never imagined my closest people would shrink back.
So here I stand at the second door. Can I forgive what occurred? What is there to forgive though? What if they have guilt or other grief that they are trying to shield? I help survivors guard against the guilt that comes with grief. Why can I not give them this pass? Should I expect them to sit with me? I kind of think they should, at least virtually on the phone, as I know I would for them, but I also understand self-care.
So if Caleb being their grandson or nephew makes the grief so difficult, or the guilt so intense, that they struggle to support us, what reason caused our friends to leave? I’m not accusing as much as truly wanting to know. The people who were in our home weekly for Bible study and then disappeared, most of them did not know Caleb well. I do not know what to do with them either.
I do not know what the right answer is. Maybe I could come close to an answer if I could discuss this with either those friends or family. How can I forgive when I cannot determine what occurred, why, or even understand. Even Christ wants something from us in exchange for the gift of forgiveness. We have to say what we did wrong, or at least acknowledge we do wrong and a desire to be better. He can see our motives. It would help if I had some insight to their motive.
I’m not ‘over’ the loss of these relationships. I continue to press in, but this pain is just poured on top of all the other pain. No matter the reason, it does not make the wound smaller. Forgiveness in this context is not releasing them from blame. It is holding both things at the same time: they hurt me, and they might have had reasons, and it still hurts. Seven years later, Mom calls every few weeks. Dad talks on occasion. My sister has been supportive. I will sit and talk about the weather and current events if that is all they want to talk about, but what I need is to be able to talk openly about Caleb and grief. I will continue to press in.
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