It was 1965, I was seventeen. I had begun working as an orderly at the St. Thomas Hospital in Akron, Ohio. I started working at seventeen and under the age required by law. I was not asked to validate my birthdate when I completed the application and I figured I was in my eighteenth year, which was close enough.
I was living with Mom & Pop at the Merriman Rd house. I was working evenings and nights on a swing shift while going to Firestone High School. I was driving my Plymouth Satalite and dating Sandy Dako.
Pop was complaining about his feet hurting. I had seen patients in the hospital soak their sore feet after surgery and suggested we set him in a chair with his feet in a basin of hot water. I remember being on my knees, washing his feet, and thinking how vulnerable he must have felt. I became conscious of a level of understanding and forgiveness for all the pain and suffering he had caused me. I remember thinking, that if I were to meet this person on the street, I would walk on the other side because I would find him so distasteful. While at the same time thinking, he is my father, and in order to let these angry feelings go, all I had to do was make a decision to let go. I felt a profound feeling of release and relief, a sense of freedom, and a lift of pain off my shoulders. It was a serendipitous moment of reflection, resolve, and contentment in one moment of time.
Since that time I have repeatedly read and heard forgiveness is for the benefit of the victim, not the abuser. First the exam and then the lesson.