Learning to Leave
How my father taught me forgiveness without ever talking about it
I ran away from home when I was 19 years old. Okay, so you can’t REALLY run away from home when you’re already a legal adult. But that’s what it felt like to both my parents and to me.
It was over a boy, of course. I’d spent my freshman year of college out of state and fallen madly, head over heels in love as only a 18-year-old can. I didn’t want to return home for the summer. I tried to talk my parents into letting me go to summer school but they were having none of it. I can’t say I blame them as my grades in the spring semester had not been promising.
In my defense, I had been sick for a large part of that time. But my parents, especially my father, decided that it was the fault of the aforementioned boyfriend. When I was lazing about the house during the summer, my dad claimed I was moping and pining for him. I finally went to the doctor in July only to find that I was still sick! But Daddy disagreed with the doctor. It was all the boyfriend’s fault.
By this point, my father had decided that I was not going to be returning to the out-of-state university in the fall, no matter the fact that I had a full scholarship and it wasn’t costing him anything. He had just decided to be mad. I, meanwhile, was in fact moping and pining away for the absent boyfriend. It just wasn’t the primary cause of my malaise.
Wanting to get back to the boy I thought was the love of my life, I got a job. I was straightforward with my parents. I told them both that as soon as I had enough money saved up, I was going to quit the job and move back to be with the boyfriend. I think my dad thought that this was just a phase and that I’d get over it because he certainly didn’t take me seriously.
When the day came that I gave two weeks’ notice at the bank where I was working as a teller, I also gave two weeks to my parents. Daddy said something like “huh” and ignored me. Mama, however, sensed that I was serious. She tried to talk me out of it because she knew that it wasn’t a sound plan. My parents had met the boyfriend and didn’t think he was good enough for me They had never thought that anyone was good enough for me. They never liked anyone I ever dated, either up to that point or for the rest of their lives. Therefore, I didn’t put a lot of stock in their opinion.
After my last day of work at the bank, I started to pack my car. I loaded all of my worldly possessions into it. Hey, I was 19 and had been living at home. I didn’t have a lot of stuff. My dad watched this process with his arms folded over his chest and a stern expression. Mama actually helped me load, advising me to put the heavy stuff on the back seat floorboard, over the rear axle.
The morning of my departure, I got up nice and early. I am not a morning person, so this was a major change in my routine. Mama got up to see me off. Daddy, who normally slept a bit later, heard us moving around and got up as well. He put on his bathrobe and stood on the front porch, arms crossed once more, threatening to never speak to me again. I told him I didn’t know why he was so surprised, as I had always been perfectly clear on my intention.
I was about to take a solo trip of over 1,400 miles in the days before cell phones. It was the days of folding paper maps before GPS. I planned to spend three days on the road so I wouldn’t get too fatigued while driving. It never occurred to me to be concerned for my safety. I wonder now if it occurred to Daddy, and that’s part of why he was so angry.
Mama and I hugged goodbye. Daddy refused to hug me and just stood there sulking. I went to the driveway and got in my trusty Volvo. I waved goodbye to my parents. Daddy said something about me not being his daughter anymore. Mama ran up to the car, and I rolled down the window (it was a manual crank) to hear what she had to say. “I give it three months before we come for a visit,” she said softly. She’d been married to the man for over 25 years at that point, so I trusted her assessment and drove off.
I spent some time crashing on the floor of some friends’ apartment while I looked for a job and my own place to live. It seems like it was easier to get a job back in the days before the internet. You printed out copies of your resume, you went downtown and passed them out. Within four days, I was working as a bank teller again. I got an apartment with three other girls soon after.
It turned out to be closer to two months after I moved that Mama and Daddy came for their first visit. Daddy and I never talked about all the reasons why he had been so mad at me. I’m sure it had to do with the risk he felt I was taking and parental concern that I was wasting my life. By the time he came to visit, he had already forgiven me for whatever he felt I had done wrong. And once he saw that I was actually successful, and had even enrolled in a few college classes, any lingering resentments he might have had evaporated.
Mama had known this would happen. She understood that love was stronger than anger.
My father was always quick to anger, but he was also quick to forgive. Had I known then that I would end up being a forgiveness coach, I would have asked him how he managed to seemingly effortlessly let go of resentment. As it is, I’ll never know.
I’m grateful that Daddy chose to forgive me. I never meant to harm him in any way. I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, and I didn’t mean to cause him worry. I was simply spreading my wings and trying to live my own life, a life that didn’t have room for hovering parents in it any longer. Maybe he just wasn’t ready to let go of his little girl. But he did let go. And when that boyfriend and I broke up about a year later, both of my parents offered me love and sound advice.
That wasn’t the last argument I would have with them. But we always managed to make up eventually, once we stopped worrying about who had started it and who did what to whom. All relationships are going to have their ups and downs. My father taught me, among many other valuable lessons, not to hold on to negativity, but to cherish the other person and the relationship I had with them. Thanks, Daddy.