The first time I heard Tracy Chapman sing Baby Can I Hold You Tonight I cried. It was 1988 and I was going through a difficult time with my mother. Things had happened and been said and done that were hurtful and wounding and we couldn’t find our individual or collective way toward forgiving one another, apologizing to one another, and moving forward.

I played the song over and over and over again, the vibration of Chapman’s richly resonant voice speaking for me when I couldn’t speak for myself.

“Sorry

Is all that you can’t say

Years gone by and still

Words don’t come easily

Like sorry like sorry”

Days, weeks and months went by before we spoke. I knew, I knew, that we would never agree about what had occurred, who had said and done what, who was responsible, who was at fault, and it didn’t matter. We could no more move toward one another than I could have walked barefoot over the Himalayas. I simply couldn’t forgive what I perceived to be her unforgivable slights. I simply couldn’t say I was sorry for my own.

“Forgive me

Is all that you can’t say

Years gone by and still

Words don’t come easily

Like forgive me forgive me”

I have been thinking about the turbulent years of my relationship with my mother since reading Paul Tullis’s article, Can Forgiveness Play a Role in Criminal Justice, because it pays tribute to a group of people who are, in my view, truly visionary and enlightened about forgiveness. For anyone to forgive themselves for having wronged another person, or to forgive someone for having wronged them is a kind of personal Rubicon – one of the most challenging, but necessary, of spiritual steps. One that we each have to cross if we are ever to be free.

But forgiving someone for hurting you emotionally is one thing. So is apologizing for hurting someone else. But what do you do when someone kills someone you love? Forgive them? How many people can do that?

The Dramatis Personae in Tullis’s article include young Conor McBride, who shot and killed Ann Margaret Grosmaire, his longtime girlfriend, and their respective parents, Michael and Julie McBride, and Andy and Kate Grosmaire. Before I go any further, let me state that all six of these people loved and cared about one another. They cared about one another so much so that the night that Conor, completely out of control of himself, shot Ann in order to bring a definitive end to their constant fighting, their parents banded together to come to terms with what had happened without turning Conor into a monster murderer and Ann into a victim for eternity. Those definitions of the two “kids” these four parents had loved and still loved, were not definitions that, in the end, they were willing to live with.

I’m not going to review the entire story, because it is so worth reading and pondering and turning over and over in our heads. But I wanted to share it particularly in the wake of the shooting in Sandy Hook, when so many parents and grieving family members are facing this simple yet seemingly impossible to answer question: How do you go forgive someone for something that is unforgivable?

I don’t know, but I’m inspired by the parents of these two kids and a criminal justice system that thought outside the box. And I’m inspired by our own Grace O’Malley, who wrote a personal essay, Forgiving a Murderer, for The Cultural Purveyor in November 2012, which you can read here: http://culturalpurveyor.com/forgiving-a-murderer/

I leave you with the last stanza of Tracy Chapman’s brilliant song, which you should download and listen to because it’s stunningly beautiful.

“I love you

Is all that you can’t say

Years gone by and still

Words don’t come easily

Like I love you I love you”

– Tracy Chapman, Baby Can I Hold You Tonight

And, as always, grateful to you for taking the time to read and share whatever thoughts you may have.

Giselle

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/06/magazine/can-forgiveness-play-a-role-in-criminal-justice.html?hp