…he apologized.

Dad said his mistress had left him the moment he fell sick. He was now battling the same cancer Mom had, and suddenly, he was all alone. “I have no one else,” he whispered. “I know I don’t deserve it, but… I need help.”

My brother and I sat in silence. For years, we watched our mother cry herself to sleep while he partied with other women. We raised each other while she went through chemo, and we buried her with our own hands when she lost the battle.

And now, he was the one begging.

We didn’t scream. We didn’t curse. We simply told him the truth: “We wish you peace. But you chose your path. We already said goodbye the day you walked away from Mom.”

He cried. But we hung up.

Sometimes, forgiveness is about letting go—not about opening old wounds.