What's There to Forgive When

"We are the children of our landscape; it dictates behavior and even thought in the measure to which we are responsive to it."—Lawrence Durrell, Justine

IN British Columbia, I never had any one good sleep, not only because I slept not on a bed but because I was always uncomfortable. No amount of shallow words of assurance could cover a person's ill feelings towards another. Most of the times, the crunchier the laugh, the more obvious the pretentions. Even stupid and dumb people are not too clueless to unnotice hidden resentments and envy. At, hindi ako tatanga-tanga! [And, I'm not stupid!]

Last night, aside from finally sleeping on a bed once again after more than a year, I felt so much restful and at-home. My relatives with whom Grandfather and I are currently staying are certainly good people. They didn't have to stage an act or to say anything patronizing; all they needed to do was be themselves, and I could naturally feel the sincerity.

Sometimes, I just feel what people think or how they feel about me. That's one advantage of my being transparent: It somehow also gives me the "gift" to see through people. I need not be a real Jedi to sense if an invitation or an offer of accommodation is genuine and heartfelt or fake and pretentious.

Also, Grandfather surprised me! In the sense, I never saw him this talkative and jolly since I got here in Canada. In British Columbia, I always found prodding him to eat a feat. He would always say, "Busog pa 'ko [I'm still full]." Here, all we need to do is utter, "Pa, 'kain na ho [Pa, eat time]." And, right there and then, he would stand up from the couch to join us on the dining table. In British Columbia, he seldom spoke. He just stayed in one corner or, every time we were having a meal, just sat there and tried to finish his food. Here, he's always mobile; he joins the usual meal conversations.

Yesterday, I jokingly said to Grandfather, "Pa, mukhang iba ang kilos n'yo ngayon ah! Lagi kayong madaldal, at lagi na kayong nagbibiro [Pa, it seems that you're positively different since we arrived here; I noticed a change in your mood, you've been freely conversative and jolly]." To which he simply replied: "E walang kunsumisyon e. Mas gusto ko naman talaga rito sa Winnipeg e, kasama mga Tito Renyboy mo; lagi silang maasikaso [Because there's no nuisance here; besides, I always liked living here in Winnipeg, with your Uncle Renyboy and his family; they're always genuinely affectionate]."

This sudden change in the moods, of Grandfather and me, made me contemplate. I began to prove once again that people, regardless if they grew up in the same environment, will always grow up individually. This is the reason I never believed in the Filipino saying: "Kung ano ang puno, s'yang bunga [A tree will always bear the same fruits]." For, no matter how parents try to raise their children in one, single manner; their children will always grow up and older embracing their own chosen ideals—righteous or twisted—and taking their preferred paths—lightside or darkside. Most of the times, there will always emerge gracefully the kind and gentle souls as well as squirt disgustingly the twisted and evil ones.

In final analysis, everything remains baffling and mysterious like life itself. But, we must be the ones to steer it, lest it will be the one to control us. For in the end, each of us becomes either the master or the servant of our own follies.

Nonetheless, I will never forget the wicked things some twisted relatives have done to me which made my life here in Canada miserable and virtually unbearable.

I may forgive, but I will never forget.

But what's there to forgive anyway, when no one's admitting wickedness nor asking forgiveness?