Where Love and Forgiveness Meet

On the night my mom died, my sister and I sat beside her bed and wondered what might be causing her to hold on. She had been under hospice care for a couple of weeks, and by then, most of the people in her life had called or stopped by to say goodbye. We assured her that we loved her and it was okay to let go. We promised to love and take care of each other. With everything we knew to do complete, we said goodnight and went to bed–our final sleepover, just us girls. 

Whispers in the dark

I remember lying awake listening to her breathe. Sleep wouldn’t come. That’s when I felt a quiet nudge: forgive. It was the one thing still unsettled–the pain I carried too close.  A simple prayer formed in my mind as I drifted off: “Yes, I am willing to forgive.”

My sister spoke at my mom’s funeral. She shared honestly and vulnerably about our complicated relationship with mom. But she also spoke of how grace and forgiveness created space for healing and love.

Almost two weeks later, I received a letter from my mom. It was sealed, handwritten, and marked for me to read alone. I already knew what it would say. I had hoped her final words to me might be filled with love or affirmation. Instead, the letter reopened old wounds. And I remembered the prayer I had whispered in the dark: “Yes, I am willing to forgive.”

What remains after goodbye

Forgiveness, like mourning, isn’t a one-time act. It isn’t neatly wrapped up with a bow. Just like grief, the need for forgiveness returns when you least expect it. Just when you think you’ve finally let go, you may be asked to take another step, to release something deeper, or to soften in a new way.

That’s the hard part. But here’s what I’ve learned:  forgiveness is not for the other person–it’s for me. It frees me to live fully, love deeply, and walk humbly forward without resentment or bitterness weighing me down. 

I am grateful for the chance to love my mom well in her final days. It mattered deeply to me to be present at the end. And now, even though she’s gone, I know the work isn’t finished. I will keep doing the work of forgiveness–because in that work, I find the freedom to live fully and the capacity to keep loving those who remain.