Forgiveness Is Divine
It was a warm spring morning. The trees and the grass had regained their old liveliness. The flowers had already bloomed. The ladybugs and the butterflies were greeting the wind and the sun; “Guten Tag,” they said. Everything else seemed perfect whilst I was throwing punches at my best friend. It was on this pleasant day I lost the best friend of my entire life, because we didn’t forgive each other.
I had a friend once many years ago, my best friend in the whole world. He had fine golden hair and eyes of sapphire. Not to sound like a member of the Nazi party but he was a perfect Aryan specimen. No secret was unshared between us, no curiosity examined alone; we did everything together. He was always there for me and I for him. It may just be me and my eroded memory but I think there may have been a little unfulfilled love interest there also. And we would always argue about silly little things like friends and lovers do.
Then one seemingly innocent day we got into another one of our arguments, but it unexpectedly turned sour fast. You know, I can’t even remember what we were squawking at each other about anymore but whatever this disagreement was about it lasted for days. Whenever we caught sight of each other, at various locations in the school, we would shoot daggers at each other with our eyes.
Soon after our itty bitty bloody brawl he informed everyone, but me, that he would be moving very suddenly. Two days after his announcement he was gone for good. There was no bittersweet farewells, no bear hugs that last forever but end too quickly, no last words of friends and lovers; just empty, lonely pride. I never saw him again. I had no other friend like him. He had shaped me into who I was at the time and a part of his influence still lasts in me. I never got to apologize to him nor did he to me.
I lost my best friend because I knew not how to employ forgiveness. I still wonder what things would be like today if I had him by my side, second in command to me and I to him. I still wonder if I would have made smarter decisions growing up, with his influence to guide me. Would I have thought about crimson endings or splattering finales any less then I did? Or would I have at least made fewer attempts? But I know forgiveness now. And I still wait to bump into him by the humor of the gods, so I can let him know that I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean for it to end like that. I wait to tell him I’m sorry, and hope that he has learned forgiveness also. But most of all I just hope that he even remembers me.
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