I spent the last night of my fathers life in his hospital room with him. As he lay in a semi comatose state I asked him why he never stood up to those who brutally hurt him. The next day, a very close relative of his called me: ask your father to forgive me. I asked him for what? He said many years ago I took and signed your fathers checks to pay my debtors. (In Iran if you bounce a check, you go to jail). My father covered the checks, and when he told this man, he slapped my father! My father kissed this mans forehead and left. I was furious when I heard this story, again my father showed restraint. I went and whispered in my fathers ear this mans request. My father died that day. A few days ago I received a series of e-mails that someone I had once been kind and generous with had written vicious lies about me. I was stunned. As I stood there in my London hotel room getting ready for the wow workshop on Saturday morning, pondering my actions, I saw my fathers image in front of me. I realized the immensity of his strength to forgive. I smiled at my father and saw him nod as his image faded. I know why these workshops have chosen me to teach (and to learn). I know what my father chose. I know why hes my father. I know what he taught me.
Posted on: Wed, 09 Apr 2014 01:18:06 +0000
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