I believe in forgiveness. It is in human nature to make mistakes, but as long as those mistakes are forgiven then people will be able to live their lives. Forgiveness is the greatest virtue of humanity.
When I was very young I betrayed my best friend. I believed I had done something unforgivable, something that would hurt him forever. I stood by and watched him be raped by two boys who were in our school. I could have said something or rushed in to save him but I didn't. Instead, I walked away. I was a coward. Someone who wasn't worthy of a friend such as him. He was loyal and would protect me no matter what, but I had failed him.
This day affected me more than I could have ever imagined. I could barely bring myself to look at him. I didn't eat and I didn't sleep. The guilt from it all was eating me from the inside. When I framed him for stealing my birthday presents and he left my house I thought it would get better. It didn't. Even when I sought out a new life in America with my father I couldn't forget that day. My life was a living hell. Nothing could change how I felt and even when I thought it was getting better I would have a dream again.
After living in America for over 10 years, I journeyed back to Afghanistan. My father's best friend, Rahim Khan, had called me. He told me that there was a way I could get better. He knew what I had done even though I had never been brave enough to tell him. When I arrived, I was in a country I did not know. The people were scared and everything was broken. I met with Rahim Khan and he told me that I would be able to save Hassan's son. He showed me letters that Hassan had addressed to me. Rahim Khan had saved them for my return. The letters he had written to me talked about his life. He had grown up to live his life even better than I had. He had forgiven me so easily. He didn't resent what I had done in any way. He still believed that I was his best friend. He even told his son about the times we spent playing in the snow or hitting our neighbors windows with projectiles from our slingshots. He seemed to have forgotten how terribly I had treated him. The truth is he didn't really forget, he just forgave. He was a better man than I was for that. From that day forth, I lived my life. I told my wife what I had done, no longer ashamed of my actions. His forgiveness was a gift that would trump all others. I no longer live with guilt and regret. I knew that he was happy and that was really all that I was looking for. Forgiveness has healed me. This I believe.
Meredith Sherock
This I Believe...
I believe in the approval of my father. Growing up under his towering shadow, I have been a shell of a lost child. Without a father, without the true unfaltering love of a family, I have always desired the forgiveness of his eye. Every insult behind my back criticizing my weak character, every praise focused towards Hassan, every drink in his office that I could not sit by his side, the void within me expands. I want him to acknowledge my existence.
Those few moments where I have found peace within myself, Baba was never there to congratulate me. His investment in my interests has never been present. When I found confidence in my writing, not once did Baba ask to read my stories. The rare surge of happiness I found in my work was quickly killed by the presence of my father. The smile on my face was nothing he should have feelings towards. This was just another episode where Baba would turn upon me with an indifferent glance, encourage me to figure life out on my own, and never again to bother him with my silly interests.
With a father known throughout the area as being so open to love, I find it ironic how he refuses to show it to his own son. Since I was young, Baba has always put earning the respect of others before establishing himself at home. How I hate those orphans that he saved. Only a man like Baba could love the millions of fatherless children before his own fatherless son at home. The character that he exhibits towards Hassan is what pains me the most. I, his true child, is left in the shadow day after day by a poor, worthless Hazara that has done nothing to prove his character. I cannot understand why Baba is able to favor anyone over me, when I have been loyal to earning his trust since I was born. Even though I acknowledge my natural order above these strangers in Baba's life, he fails to figure it out. I have lived too long under these unknown people who absorb Baba's life. Every time he ignores me in his office, too busy working for me to tell him about my day, the feeling within me that desires his time only heightens. All I want is to prove to Baba that I am worthy of his time. I want him to know that I am worth all the respect that he shows towards others, that I am not the coward that he thinks I am. I am not an empty person.
Why is it that a child of his own blood cannot represent him sufficiently? Every blow that Baba makes towards me only expands my belief that I am not worthy of his past. Baba, known so well for his courage and inability to falter under any power, produced a son so cowardly and alien to his ways. All I want is to be like him. To win. I want to find a moment where Baba will pridefully claim me as his own, the son of blood and virtue that he always wanted. I believe that I can be capable of his approval, but only if I find a feat so significant that he finally realizes my existence. I believe that once I find this moment I will find happiness, a confidence in myself and my relationship with Baba that I have never experienced. Only when I become Baba will he call me his son.
My first word was his name. What I need now is for him to know mine.
This I Believe...
I believe in forgiveness. It is in human nature to make mistakes, but as long as those mistakes are forgiven then people will be able to live their lives. Forgiveness is the greatest virtue of humanity.
When I was very young I betrayed my best friend. I believed I had done something unforgivable, something that would hurt him forever. I stood by and watched him be raped by two boys who were in our school. I could have said something or rushed in to save him but I didn't. Instead, I walked away. I was a coward. Someone who wasn't worthy of a friend such as him. He was loyal and would protect me no matter what, but I had failed him.
This day affected me more than I could have ever imagined. I could barely bring myself to look at him. I didn't eat and I didn't sleep. The guilt from it all was eating me from the inside. When I framed him for stealing my birthday presents and he left my house I thought it would get better. It didn't. Even when I sought out a new life in America with my father I couldn't forget that day. My life was a living hell. Nothing could change how I felt and even when I thought it was getting better I would have a dream again.
After living in America for over 10 years, I journeyed back to Afghanistan. My father's best friend, Rahim Khan, had called me. He told me that there was a way I could get better. He knew what I had done even though I had never been brave enough to tell him. When I arrived, I was in a country I did not know. The people were scared and everything was broken. I met with Rahim Khan and he told me that I would be able to save Hassan's son. He showed me letters that Hassan had addressed to me. Rahim Khan had saved them for my return. The letters he had written to me talked about his life. He had grown up to live his life even better than I had. He had forgiven me so easily. He didn't resent what I had done in any way. He still believed that I was his best friend. He even told his son about the times we spent playing in the snow or hitting our neighbors windows with projectiles from our slingshots. He seemed to have forgotten how terribly I had treated him. The truth is he didn't really forget, he just forgave. He was a better man than I was for that. From that day forth, I lived my life. I told my wife what I had done, no longer ashamed of my actions. His forgiveness was a gift that would trump all others. I no longer live with guilt and regret. I knew that he was happy and that was really all that I was looking for. Forgiveness has healed me. This I believe.
Meredith Sherock
This I Believe...
I believe in the approval of my father. Growing up under his towering shadow, I have been a shell of a lost child. Without a father, without the true unfaltering love of a family, I have always desired the forgiveness of his eye. Every insult behind my back criticizing my weak character, every praise focused towards Hassan, every drink in his office that I could not sit by his side, the void within me expands. I want him to acknowledge my existence.
Those few moments where I have found peace within myself, Baba was never there to congratulate me. His investment in my interests has never been present. When I found confidence in my writing, not once did Baba ask to read my stories. The rare surge of happiness I found in my work was quickly killed by the presence of my father. The smile on my face was nothing he should have feelings towards. This was just another episode where Baba would turn upon me with an indifferent glance, encourage me to figure life out on my own, and never again to bother him with my silly interests.
With a father known throughout the area as being so open to love, I find it ironic how he refuses to show it to his own son. Since I was young, Baba has always put earning the respect of others before establishing himself at home. How I hate those orphans that he saved. Only a man like Baba could love the millions of fatherless children before his own fatherless son at home. The character that he exhibits towards Hassan is what pains me the most. I, his true child, is left in the shadow day after day by a poor, worthless Hazara that has done nothing to prove his character. I cannot understand why Baba is able to favor anyone over me, when I have been loyal to earning his trust since I was born. Even though I acknowledge my natural order above these strangers in Baba's life, he fails to figure it out. I have lived too long under these unknown people who absorb Baba's life. Every time he ignores me in his office, too busy working for me to tell him about my day, the feeling within me that desires his time only heightens. All I want is to prove to Baba that I am worthy of his time. I want him to know that I am worth all the respect that he shows towards others, that I am not the coward that he thinks I am. I am not an empty person.
Why is it that a child of his own blood cannot represent him sufficiently? Every blow that Baba makes towards me only expands my belief that I am not worthy of his past. Baba, known so well for his courage and inability to falter under any power, produced a son so cowardly and alien to his ways. All I want is to be like him. To win. I want to find a moment where Baba will pridefully claim me as his own, the son of blood and virtue that he always wanted. I believe that I can be capable of his approval, but only if I find a feat so significant that he finally realizes my existence. I believe that once I find this moment I will find happiness, a confidence in myself and my relationship with Baba that I have never experienced. Only when I become Baba will he call me his son.
My first word was his name. What I need now is for him to know mine.