In the early 90s in Asheville, NC I worked with a man named Leon. He was abandoned by his parents as a child in the 1950s; they left a note saying they just didn't want to raise their kids any more. The children hid their parents' absence from teachers and authorities. They somehow stayed fed though they fucked their lives up in a variety of ways. I think at least one of them died young. Leon was, in his words, "wild." He was in and out of jail, both caused and experienced violence and chaos. He was alcoholic by his 20s. In his 40s or so he got clean, met a great person and settled down. He slowly built a life he was proud of.
One day in his early 50s someone knocked on his door. It was an old man--Leon's father, whom he hadn't heard from in 4 decades. His mother had died in previous years. His father was alone and broke and needed somewhere to stay.
Leon stared at him for a long minute then invited him in. He took care of him until he died, a couple of years before I met him.
I don't know if I could be that person, though I wish I could. I don't get past betrayals; I disconnect and never say more than a polite, guarded word to the person who hurt me, ever again.
All your cryin' don't do no good.
Come on up to the house.
Come down off the cross; we can use the wood.
Come on up to the house.
There is a comforting, devastating love in being seen struggling, doing things you wish you could stop doing, being seen for the worst version of who you are, and instead of being condemned being welcomed and comforted.
https://youtu.be/wFrqclcm8pU
#story #forgiveness #notme #TomWaits
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