Forgiveness

Many years ago, right after I graduated college with my BA in Technical Theatre, I was willing to move anywhere for a job in theatre. One of those moves took me to Jackson, Mississippi, to the New Stage Theatre.

I drove there by myself, and when I arrived in Mississippi, they were in the middle of an ice storm. It covered the houses and light poles and kudzu (an invasive ivy) and cars and plants, coating everything with a thick layer of ice that glistened and shimmered, making the entire state seem like I had driven into a magical land of crystal and color.

That feeling was quickly dispelled when I arrived at the theatre. A man named Jesse was there to meet me, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, good-ol’ Southern Boy. He first established that I was the new Master Electrician, and then (in a heavy southern accent) drawled, “You know the difference between a Yankee and a Damn Yankee?” “Oh, do tell” I responded. “A Yankee is someone from Up North (author’s note: “Up North” was anywhere north of the northern border of the state). A Damn Yankee is someone from Up North who comes to stay.”

At one point, I was a a laundromat with my car with Colorado plates, and this handsome fellow walked by and commented, looking at my license plates, “That’s a long way to come to do your laundry!” This was Chris. Yeah. Goofy. But I married him. Later. I guess I am a sucker for someone who can make me laugh.

Somewhere in the middle of that story, I decided to go back to school to get my Masters in Technical Theatre Lighting Design, so we moved up to a place called Water Valley. (Former watermelon capital of the world…just ask them.) It was about 30 minutes outside of Oxford, home of Old Miss. (University of Mississippi for the non-southerners out there.) He was going to school to be a social worker, and I got student loans to help us survive and to pay his tuition. I had a stipend. When the time came for me to graduate and get a job, I got a good one at Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana. I fully expected him to go with me.

You see, theatre was my life. I made it more important than anything in my life, including Chris. I can look back now and see that. I made it clear before we got married that I wouldn’t be staying in Mississippi, that I would go where theatre took me, and that I would love it if he could take that journey with me. As a social worker, he could have gotten a job anywhere, we agreed. So when I got that job, I thought our adventure was just beginning.

Except when we got to Muncie, he decided within hours of our arrival that it was too big for him, he had called his old boss and gotten his job back, and he was going back to Water Valley. I ran up the two flights of stairs in what was supposed to have been our new apartment, to the bedroom, and threw myself down on the bed. He came up and tried to comfort me, I tried to change his mind, neither was successful. At this point, I tore off the necklace I was wearing (that he had given me) and my wedding ring, threw them across the room at him, and pronounced, “When YOU have decided to FULFILL the promise that THESE represent, YOU can come BACK!!!” (It’s okay to laugh here. I do. I roll my eyes, too. But it’s really what I said. Dramatic, huh?)

At this point, he started going through the items in the truck, bringing up my things and taking his things back down. Meanwhile, I was going through the things in the apartment, dropping his things unceremoniously at the top of the stairs. Except his Beatle albums. The didn’t deserve that. And he drove away. I had the joyous task (that is sarcasm) of telling his Mom, his Dad, his Grandmother, and his Sister when they called that night that the move hadn’t gone at all well, and that they could ask Chris about it when he got back to Mississippi.

I spent the next year telling folks that he was making lives better….just not mine. And I filed for, and received, a divorce a year later. See, I waited a year because I didn’t want to file out of hatred or bitterness or resentment. I wanted to file because I was sure that our paths had truly diverged. And they had. Once it was final, I expected to feel sadness or despair or even joy, but I felt….nothing. Like that song from A Chorus Line. I was surprised to find that I Felt Nothing.

That was in 1995, I think. I hadn’t really spoken to him since, short of a few “housekeeping” things. And I stopped hating. So I said.

Ten years ago, I received a message on Facebook. From Chris. Wanting to reconnect, if I was willing. Was I? Had I really gotten past the hate, the bitterness, from all those years ago? Had I changed? This was my test.

I am happy to say I passed. I had forgiven him, truly, from my heart, and I received forgiveness in return. Over the next 6 years, we forged a new friendship, and I am so thankful for that. For the chance to know him, who he was, who he had become. Those six years were a delight and a treat, and I cherish the conversations we had over Facebook. Four years ago, he passed away form liver cancer.

I miss my friend. But he gave me a gift, through that connection. I am so thankful for his friendship, for that chance at closure. I am thankful to have been tested, I am thankful to have passed. I am thankful for the lessons. Forgiveness isn’t something that we give away to benefit someone else, It is something we give ourselves, to give ourselves peace. And we accept it from others, for the same reason. To bring peace. For all of us.

Peace,

Kat