Trying to Forgive
I knew something was wrong right as I entered the kitchen. Standing tensely, my mother hung up the phone.
“He got diagnosed,” she told me.
“What is it?” Heart sinking, I awaited an answer.
“Your father has Cirrhosis.” I was incoherent. When he, gaunt and sickly, coughed like he wouldn’t stop, this disease was why. Cirrhosis is notoriously known for its severe physical effects, it eats away at the victim's body, ingesting their personality with it.
“So now what?” I ached know. My mom didn’t have an answer.
This had to be the worst injury he has incurred upon me yet. How could I pity him? How could I sympathize him? He did this to himself. Every bottle, every sip, tore him down and snatched him away from me. The strong man who lifted me onto his shoulders so that I could see the whole world was gone, and what was left behind? A wisp of a man weaker than his elderly father. Looking back, I realized that he had been gone for a long time but he was good at concealing it.
But I still had to try, I had attempt forgiveness, I didn’t know how long I had before all of him would be gone forever. But how could I forgive? I couldn’t just let go of it all, just start anew and let myself be hurt again, he was still malignant. I just couldn’t let him hurt me one more time. How long did I have before I broke?
I thought that answering these questions would lead me to forgiveness so I tried to answer them. But it didn’t help; I just couldn’t do it -- he was still hurting me. Every time he, that ghost of a broken man, picked up the phone I wanted to cry. That tortuous voice kills me every day. Its raspy whisper haunts me. I can’t forgive it for breaking me.
I won’t stop trying though. Everyday I will try and even if there are a million failures then that one day when I can truly forgive him will be very worth it.
Statement of Purpose:
In The Crucible Elizabeth Proctor found a way to forgive her husband for breaking her heart as I try to forgive my father for breaking mine. During revision, I focused on improving my word choice and voice as well as sentence fluency.
“He got diagnosed,” she told me.
“What is it?” Heart sinking, I awaited an answer.
“Your father has Cirrhosis.” I was incoherent. When he, gaunt and sickly, coughed like he wouldn’t stop, this disease was why. Cirrhosis is notoriously known for its severe physical effects, it eats away at the victim's body, ingesting their personality with it.
“So now what?” I ached know. My mom didn’t have an answer.
This had to be the worst injury he has incurred upon me yet. How could I pity him? How could I sympathize him? He did this to himself. Every bottle, every sip, tore him down and snatched him away from me. The strong man who lifted me onto his shoulders so that I could see the whole world was gone, and what was left behind? A wisp of a man weaker than his elderly father. Looking back, I realized that he had been gone for a long time but he was good at concealing it.
But I still had to try, I had attempt forgiveness, I didn’t know how long I had before all of him would be gone forever. But how could I forgive? I couldn’t just let go of it all, just start anew and let myself be hurt again, he was still malignant. I just couldn’t let him hurt me one more time. How long did I have before I broke?
I thought that answering these questions would lead me to forgiveness so I tried to answer them. But it didn’t help; I just couldn’t do it -- he was still hurting me. Every time he, that ghost of a broken man, picked up the phone I wanted to cry. That tortuous voice kills me every day. Its raspy whisper haunts me. I can’t forgive it for breaking me.
I won’t stop trying though. Everyday I will try and even if there are a million failures then that one day when I can truly forgive him will be very worth it.
Statement of Purpose:
In The Crucible Elizabeth Proctor found a way to forgive her husband for breaking her heart as I try to forgive my father for breaking mine. During revision, I focused on improving my word choice and voice as well as sentence fluency.