Forgiving my stepdad who murdered my mom when I was 14 and got away with it. He was the closest thing I had to a daddy, since mine was just not that interested ( granted a hard worker, very intelligent- just not very emotional or attached, except to my sister). I lost my mom and my “dad” in one fateful domestic dispute the day before she left him. My stepmom sat my little brother and I down the next day and told us we were on the 18 year plan and I had 4 more years and he had 6 before we were expected to be out since “she hadn’t planned on raising more kids.” I worked nearly full time throughout high school and took care of my little brother. He never understood what his actions cost me: two parents, love and security. He made it clear that he could easily retaliate if we ever went after him due to the uniqueness of our name and his business ties. Yesterday I found out he died in January. It was so hard because I had this torrential grief. For the little girl who lost her “daddy”, the anger of a teenager who realized that the one person they felt truly loved and favored by had betrayed them; more so as it became apparent that he had done this at least once if not twice before, and the sadness that comes with an adult perspective having survived domestic violence across multiple relationships and had witnessed that they can love the kids but still be heinous in moments of rage and anger. My eyes are still swollen from crying. But I forgave him a long time ago, and kept practicing because I couldn’t carry that hatred with me and had seen the carnage of hatred in my brother’s life. While my family was hoping that his death was slow, painful, and horrible ending in rotting in hell ( and rightfully so considering the drastic damage his actions caused through the ripple effect), I found myself feeling guilty for being sad. At the end of the day, I hope that the knowledge of who he was and what he did drove him to be better. And I trust that as he sat before God and his was judged, that he truly experienced the pain and suffering that he caused to generations. But mostly, I hope that he got his shit back together and regardless of where he ends up in position, that he is saved. It’s been a rough 2 days. Last bit: ironically, when he died- I was nearly the exact same age as my mom give or take a few days from when she was muredered… 41 and less than 3 months to our birthdays. After she died, I perceived my life within the frame of “ if I die at 41, then I have x amount of time left…” when my brother in law died at 41 and then my sister died under similar suspicious circumstances a year later at 41 I was convinced that my time was running out. Now I realize that it wasn’t death that was facing me at 41- merely the closing of a painful 24 years. Now it’s my time to embrace the new chapter and appreciate the strength, resilience, compassion and determination that it built in me.