Hate is not a word that I use often. I try to see the best in people, and to accept and love them for who they are. No one is perfect, not even me. And I certainly don’t expect perfection from everyone. We’re all just floating through life, trying to figure it all out. And we all make mistakes.
But. There are two people on this Earth whom I hate. Hate. These people have hurt my family (emotionally, not physically), and I cannot forgive them. A few years ago, I spoke to one of them and got their side of the story. I’m aware that I will never know the 100% truth, if it even exists. But this person is so…wrong. Wrong. It’s not my story to share, so I won’t say more.
Anyway. Through an odd turn of events, one of these people (the one I hate the most) may have passed away. We’re waiting for confirmation. When I told Hubs about it, I said that if he were dead, I wouldn’t care at all. Good riddance, and all that. Hubs said that I was “heartless” for being so cold.
Now, I am known for being fiercely protective of those I love. I am known for giving people chance after chance, and for looking for the best in everyone. But heartless? Me? Not at all.
I, of course, turned to the Twitter for confirmation that I’m right. That I’m not heartless for not caring at all if this person is dead, for hating them for hurting my family. Robby tweeted a link to this Jack Kornfield article on forgiveness. I’m still processing the information, and plan on reading more about it, but I’m wondering now if I’m wrong. If maybe I should forgive them. I don’t want to carry around hurt and hate. But a part of me feels like if I forgive them, that means that I’ve accepted/condoned their actions. And I can’t do that.