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Despite the unknown path ahead, I put a lot of effort into my profession and saved money for a college education. I eventually adapted to my new existence. I thrived academically with every semester that went by, driven by a strong desire to show the world and myself that I could achieve greatness even in the face of overwhelming odds. Nevertheless, as the years passed and the betrayal’s scars gradually healed. Even though I had moved forward with steadfast purpose, a persistent sense of unfairness and the ghost of unfinished business plagued me in some way. There were times when I felt like I was drowning in unanswered questions. What had motivated my parents to so blatantly betray me? More importantly, could I ever forgive them from the bottom of my heart? I was driven to the idea of closure as I struggled with these ideas—a last reckoning that would finally put the ghosts of the past to rest. So I decided to confront my parents in order to get the answers that had escaped me for so long, a heavy heart and a renewed sense of purpose. I was thinking about calling my parents when my brother called out of the blue and begged to meet.
Though I hesitated, my curiosity won out. Even though he was surprisingly warm when we finally met, I wasn’t convinced. His actual motivations soon became apparent when he asked me for money so that we could support our parents. I listened to him explain their grave predicament, feeling both compassion and frustration at the same time. As it turned out, their new home’s builder had filed for bankruptcy, leaving their investment in jeopardy. To exacerbate the situation, my parents were in debt since they had taken out a loan to pay for the remaining expenses. Even though I still harbored animosity, I was overcome with melancholy. Even after all they had gone through, they were still my family. I decided to put aside my complaints and support them during their difficult period with a sorrowful heart. My brother and I went to see our parents together. My mother’s eyes filled with tears the instant she saw me, and I experienced a twinge of regret for having been away for so long. My father apologized profusely, with regret in every word. I understood then that clinging to my anger would simply make the hurtful cycle continue. My shoulders began to lighten as they meekly begged for forgiveness. I realized that the only way to move past them was via forgiveness, even though it hurt. By reaching out for forgiveness, I took back control of my story and stopped allowing resentment to define the people in my life.
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