Marcus smiled. A real smile. Full of warmth. “She’s a nurse now. Works in pediatric oncology. Takes care of dying children. Holds their hands the same way I’m holding yours.”
“She’s married. Has three kids. Two boys and a girl. The girl is named Emily, after the mother she never got to meet.”
“That photo I showed you,” Marcus said, pointing to the picture on my chest. “That’s Sarah holding her first baby. Your great-grandson. He’s twenty-two now. Just graduated from college. Wants to be a teacher.”
“Why are you telling me this?” My voice broke. “Why show me everything I destroyed? Everything I’ll never get to have?”
Marcus leaned closer. His grip on my hand tightened.
“Because you’re dying, Robert. And I need you to know something before you go.”
“I forgive you.”
The words hit me like a truck.
“What?”
“I forgive you. For the shotgun. For the threats. For driving me away from the woman I loved. For taking my daughter from me for fifteen years.”
“How?” I whispered. “How can you forgive me?”
“Because holding onto that hatred was killing me,” Marcus said simply. “For years I was angry. Bitter. Wanted revenge. Wanted you to suffer the way I suffered.”
“But then I found Sarah. And I realized all that anger was just wasted time. Time I could have spent being a father. Being a grandfather. Being happy.”
He pulled out one more photo. This one showed a huge group of people. Adults, children, teenagers. All smiling. All gathered around a massive dinner table.
“This is my family now,” Marcus said. “Sarah. Her husband. Her three kids. My wife Maria. Our two sons. Their wives. Six more grandchildren.”
“That’s eighteen people who love me. Eighteen people who exist because I didn’t let your hatred destroy me. Because I kept going. Kept hoping. Kept believing I was worth more than what you said I was.”
I stared at the photo. At the fContinue reading…
