On Sunday the writers come. Sean helps me work on a letter for Aisha. Later, as I lie in bed reading over the letter, things that Jackson and the social worker talked about strike a chord. Maybe before my dad and Aisha can forgive me, I need to learn how to forgive myself. That’s going to take a lot of work and a lot of effort. So I start by saying, “I’m sorry.”
This time, the words are just for me.
Jackson is standing in the room with me as we wait for Aisha to arrive. He has to be there. I’m not allowed to pass the letter to her myself. In fact, Jackson has to read it first, to approve it. It’s weird, but Jackson actually gets emotional as he reads it.
The letter is shaking in his hand. “I don’t know if you know this, Kevin,” he says. “I have a son. He’s twenty-eight. We went through a tough patch. After reading this, it makes me grateful that he and I made it. That everything worked out.”
I don’t know why he’s telling me this. Is it his way of saying everything will work out with Aisha? It sounds like he thinks the letter is going to help.
Jackson picks a table near the window. It’s the first time I’ve ever sat at this table. This close to the window, the day looks bright. It’s June, so I bet it’s warm out. Just as we get seated, Aisha enters the visitors’ area. She’s wearing a print dress with flowers on it.
Once she is sitting at the table with us, Jackson says, “Kevin wrote this letter for you. I have to read it out loud. And then you may take it from me to keep.”
This is the part I can do without. I want to be able to hand things to people myself. To take care of things on my own. But I swallow my frustration so I can be in the moment, as Aisha takes in my words to her.
Jackson’s voice falters as he reads my letter:
“I am glad that your dad is happy with his new job at the library. But it shouldn’t have happened this way. It shouldn’t have been because I hurt him. He shouldn’t have had to deal with rehab and hospitals and court cases. He shouldn’t have had to make a decision about work until he was ready to make that decision on his own. It should have been because he wanted a change. Not because he had to change jobs. I took that choice away from him.”
While Jackson reads, I keep my eyes on Aisha. My PO keeps sharing my words:
“I am sorry that I took your father away from you and your brother while he healed in the hospital. You were in your teens, just like me, and needed your dad. Just like I needed mine.”
As Jackson reads, I realize that the word sorry doesn’t have to be small. I can make it bigger by showing my true feelings. I nod when Jackson reads the important parts, to emphasize my words.
Aisha keeps her head down for some time after Jackson finishes reading. I remember how he said I don’t have to say anything. I can just listen. So I wait.
Her voice is shaky when she begins talking. As she looks into my eyes, hers are glazed with tears. “Thank you, Kevin. You’re right. I was hurt and angry that Dad was away for so long. I needed him home during my senior year as I planned my future. He was my rock. I felt lost without him. But I also learned to be more independent because he wasn’t there.
“My brother started going down the wrong path. He was angry and full of hate for what you did. He made some mistakes too. Because he was acting out of anger. But I learned that we have a good family system. My uncle stepped in and spent time with my brother when my dad was in the hospital. My uncle helped my brother get back on track. My mom is still angry. She isn’t ready to meet with you. Nor is my brother. They’ll have to come to that place on their own. If they ever do. I hope they do. I don’t like seeing their hearts so dark.
“My dad still has trouble walking. It makes me sad to see him this way, but with a cane he gets around. That would have come with age, but it happened sooner than it should have. It hurts to watch him, especially on days when he feels more pain.
“But I’m here because I want to be here. I want to move forward.” She wipes away the tears and smiles again. “I accept your letter, Kevin. And I hope we can talk some more?”
“Sure,” I say. “I want to hear more about how this has been for you. If your mom or your brother want to come talk to me, I will listen.”
“And how about my dad?”
I take a deep breath. Seeing him will be hard, for sure. But I can do it if it will help. “I’ll see your dad. If he wants to see me.”
“Good,” she smiles. “Because he definitely wants to meet you.”
“Really?” I’m surprised.
Jackson is grinning from ear to ear.
Aisha leans in. “It’s my dad’s birthday today. Can I read him your letter as part of his present?”
“Sure. I mean . . . if you think it will help?”
“I do. And thank you, Kevin. For letting me say what I needed to say today. I have more to share. But we have time. We have time to heal. You and me.”
And me.
Aisha has included me in her message. I have time to heal. There is a ton to heal from. But this feels like a start.