寬恕他人， 你會(huì)發(fā)現(xiàn)原來一直被困在牢籠里的那個(gè)人是你自己。

The dream startled me so much that I woke up gasping， my hand clutching the comforter. My husbands gentle snore and the familiar shapes in our darkened bedroom reassured me that what Id seen wasnt real.

Even so， the image of my father wearing a red shirt， lying on his back on my living room sofa， would not go away.

The clock on the nightstand told me I needed to go back to sleep， but I hesitated to close my eyes. I feared the dream might continue， that Dad would once again say， “ You havent forgiven me yet.” Five words that made my stomach churn.

The next day， I told myself it was ridiculous to allow a dream to unsettle me so. And it was only a dream. Dad had died in 1995， so suddenly that there had been no time to say anything to him. In life， my father would never have worn a red shirt or a red tie， not a red anything. He would also never have asked for forgiveness.

LET GO OF THAT GRUDGE AND FORGIVE

My father had been a complicated man， and during all of my adult years， I had a love/hate relationship with him. He provided the necessities of life in my growing-up years. He was fun to be with some of the time. My three brothers and I knew he loved us， but we also knew that he could turn from loving father to a man who belittled and verbally abused us if we moved outside the lines hed drawn. We were to believe only what he believed， there was no discussion， no difference of opinion， no respect for our thoughts.

He verbally and emotionally abused my mother even while loving her deeply. Having to watch silently hurt me. None of us suffered physical abuse from him， but we bore the scars of the cutting words hurdled at us during his flares of temper.

He raged like a bull in a Spanish bullring when I wanted to leave the Midwest and teach in California. He disowned my youngest brother because the young college student had the nerve to fall in love with someone of a different race. The bitterness I harbored against my father sat inside me like a weighty rock for many years.

The dream brought it all to the surface. All that day， whenever I passed through my living room， I saw my father in the red shirt lying on the sofa and I shivered inwardly. My sensible self knew he wasnt really there. I only imagined it.

Days， and then weeks， passed and I still had trouble looking at my sofa. No way would I sit on it！ I churned inside. Why the dream？ Why the red shirt？ Why was he asking for my forgiveness？ I couldnt put it together， didnt know what I should do， and it felt like a wound that refused to heal.

One afternoon， I needed a break while cleaning the house， so I fixed a cup of steaming hot tea， grabbed a freshly-baked sugar cookie and sank into my favorite chair. Suddenly， Dad appeared on the sofa. “You still havent forgiven me，” he said so softly I had to strain to hear the words.

Then began an epiphany. Instead of all the negative memories about my father that Id harbored for so many years， I thought about the positives. My girl-scout troop sponsored a Father-Daughter dance and Dad escorted me， beaming with pride. He taught me to be loyal， to love my country and to believe in God. He encouraged me to go to college when our family really could not afford it.

As I sipped my tea， I remembered the wonderful support Dad gave me when my first child was born with severe birth defects. I had a vision of the secondhand bike hed fixed up like new as a birthday gift for me. I thought about my wedding day when hed walked me down the aisle while I held on to his strong， steady arm.

I set my cup of tea on the end table and silently forgave him for all the hurt hed inflicted over the years. It was time to bring some balance to my memories. Besides that， I finally realized that my forgiving him would afford both of us peace of mind. What good， I asked myself， did holding a grudge all these years do？ It didnt help anyone， most of all， me. Once it was done， Dad disappeared from the sofa. I never saw him again.

Now， the good times about my life with Dad are remembered more than the dark ones. He came to ask my forgiveness， but the one who felt cleansed and free of bitterness turned out to be me.

那個(gè)夢(mèng)驚得我整個(gè)人彈了起來，抓著床罩喘氣連連。黑暗的臥室里，丈夫輕輕的鼾聲以及熟悉的擺設(shè)讓我放下心來：我看到的一切都不是真的。

盡管如此，父親穿著紅色襯衫躺在客廳沙發(fā)上的畫面卻一直在我腦海里揮之不去。

床頭幾上的鐘告訴我，我得重新入睡，但我不敢閉上眼睛。我害怕那個(gè)夢(mèng)會(huì)繼續(xù)，爸爸又會(huì)再次說出那句話：“你沒原諒我。”這五個(gè)字令我脾胃翻騰。

第二天，我告訴自己，被一個(gè)夢(mèng)弄得如此心神不寧是件非?；闹嚨氖?。這只是一個(gè)夢(mèng)。爸爸在1995年就去世了，他走得那么突然，都沒有時(shí)間和他說再見。爸爸在世時(shí)，從不會(huì)穿紅襯衫或打紅領(lǐng)帶，他不會(huì)穿任何紅色的東西。他也從來不會(huì)請(qǐng)求原諒。

原諒別人，放過自己

爸爸是個(gè)多重性格的人。在我成年后，我和他的關(guān)系可以說是愛恨交織。在我的成長過程中，他給我提供了所有的生活必需品。他有時(shí)候也很風(fēng)趣。我和三個(gè)兄弟都知道他很愛我們，但一旦我們做出他無法容忍的事情，他就會(huì)從慈父變成一個(gè)用語言辱罵、貶低我們的人。他的信仰就是我們的信仰，沒有任何商量的余地，也不允許任何不同的意見，我們的想法得不到任何尊重。

盡管他深愛著媽媽，他也會(huì)對(duì)她進(jìn)行言辭激烈的辱罵。而我只能在一旁沉默地看著，這讓我很受傷。他沒有對(duì)我們?nèi)魏我粋€(gè)人使用過暴力，但是當(dāng)他大發(fā)雷霆時(shí)，我們都受過他那錐心之言所帶來的傷害。

當(dāng)我提出想離開中西部去加州教書時(shí)，他像西班牙斗牛場(chǎng)里的公牛一樣暴跳如雷。他和我最小的弟弟脫離了父子關(guān)系，因?yàn)檫@個(gè)年輕的大學(xué)生竟敢膽大包天地和其他種族的人談戀愛。對(duì)爸爸懷著的怨恨如沉重的大石般在我心里埋藏多年。

那個(gè)夢(mèng)把這股怨恨又重新勾了起來。那一整天，每當(dāng)我經(jīng)過客廳時(shí)，我都看到爸爸穿著紅色襯衫躺在沙發(fā)上，我的內(nèi)心止不住地打顫。我的理智知道他不是真的在那里，這只是我的想象。

一天又一天，一個(gè)星期又一個(gè)星期，我依然不敢看我的沙發(fā)，更別提坐在上面！我的內(nèi)心在翻騰。為什么會(huì)做這個(gè)夢(mèng)？為什么會(huì)穿著那件紅襯衫？為什么他在請(qǐng)求我的原諒？我理不清這一切，不知道該怎么辦，這就像是一個(gè)不愿痊愈的傷口。

一天下午，在收拾房子時(shí)，我想休息一下，于是弄來一杯熱氣騰騰的茶，拿著一塊新鮮出爐的糖屑餅干坐在了我最喜歡的椅子上。突然，爸爸出現(xiàn)在了沙發(fā)上?！澳氵€是沒有原諒我，”他很小聲地說道，我緊繃神經(jīng)才聽得出他在說什么。

然后，我開始有了新的想法。我不再想爸爸的不好，不再想那么多年來讓我一直耿耿于懷的一切，我想到他好的方面。我參加的女童子軍要舉辦一場(chǎng)父女共舞，爸爸滿臉自豪地陪我赴會(huì)。他教我學(xué)會(huì)忠誠、愛國、相信上帝。在我們家無法負(fù)擔(dān)起我的學(xué)費(fèi)時(shí)，他鼓勵(lì)我上大學(xué)。

我一邊喝茶，一邊想起，在我第一個(gè)出生的孩子帶有嚴(yán)重的先天缺陷時(shí)，爸爸給了我很大的支持;想起在我生日時(shí)，他把一輛二手單車翻新，送給我作生日禮物;想起在我結(jié)婚那天，他帶著我走過紅地毯，而我則挽著他那強(qiáng)壯結(jié)實(shí)的手臂。

我把茶放在茶幾上，默默地原諒了他這些年來造成的傷害。我的回憶不該再那么偏頗了。此外，我最后終于意識(shí)到，原諒他，我們兩人都能得到安寧。積怨在心這么多年，何必呢？我問自己。這對(duì)誰都沒有好處，尤其是對(duì)我自己。我這么做后，爸爸就從沙發(fā)上消失了。我再也沒見過他。

如今，對(duì)爸爸的記憶，美好的總是比苦澀的要多。他來請(qǐng)求我的原諒，但從痛苦中解脫出來的那個(gè)人反倒是我。