Honor Thy Father

Why It's Easier For People Who Learn to Forgive

Jun 10, 2025

A father with a child on his shoulders — Life Matters Newsletter

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NOTE: This post was originally published in June 2022 and is republished here with minor edits.

Some of us got lucky in the birth lottery.

I was born to parents who wanted me and cared for my needs. I was never abused or made to feel unloved. But sadly, not everyone is so fortunate.

We shouldn't be too quick to judge those who speak ill of their parents, if they speak of them at all. There's a reason.

I don't believe anyone wants to feel that way, but their childhood experiences ultimately shape the nature of whatever the relationship becomes. Of course, every child wants to be loved and cherished by their parents. But for some, it never happens. For others, they're loved in all the wrong ways. And some suffer terribly at the hands of the very people who are supposed to protect them.

Parenting is a tricky business. The average person enters it with sincere intentions and the best-laid plans, yet still occasionally stumbles. However, we're human, and shit's gonna happen.

I had a good father, but like most people, he made mistakes. And shit did happen. I'm not one of those daughters who let starry-eyed devotion cloud my honest judgment.

My parents, especially my dad, took a different approach to child-rearing in the 1960s. It was more tough love and less "let's calmly discuss this and make it a teachable moment.”

For example, I developed a stutter at about the age of four, and my Dad would scold me. I think he believed I was doing it on purpose for attention. Mom told him that reprimanding me would only make it worse. Luckily, that didn’t happen, and the speech impediment resolved on its own.

I have vague memories of this, but my older brother said he literally ‘screamed’ at me. Perhaps that description is exaggerated; children are often scared easily. Dad didn’t just raise his voice; he hollered loudly. But he never spanked us or used corporal punishment of any kind. He didn’t have to. We were terrified by his yelling and learned to behave our best when he was around.

At about the same age, I developed an intense fear of thunderstorms. One time we were on vacation and dining in a nice restaurant, at a table next to large windows. I could see a vicious storm brewing in the distance, with giant black thunderheads.

As it came nearer, lightning began to flash, followed by booming thunderclaps. Shaking, I closed my eyes tightly, slid down in my seat, and kept sliding until I reached the floor. Dad became quite angry, telling me to get back in my chair. Instead of recognizing my behavior as abject terror, he saw it as being disrespectful in front of the other diners.

He was a young father, a product of his own environment, and still learning the ropes. He got better with practice. But, while fearful of his wrath, I also knew he had my back. If the monster under the bed ever materialized, he'd be the one I would run to.

He showed us love in many ways. We had a decent home, good food, nice clothes, and a vacation every summer. Our holidays were bountiful, and Dad often treated us to many "extras." He was an affectionate man who demonstrated his devotion daily.

However, years later, we discovered that he was having an affair, and my parents separated. It wreaked havoc on all of us in different ways. I had just started my first year of college. The pain I felt was overwhelming, made worse by my mother’s decision to tell me everything that was happening. During phone calls and weekends at home (while I was still away at school), she treated me more like a girlfriend than a daughter. I was given details that a parent shouldn’t share with a child about the other parent.

Booze and drugs helped numb that pain and most of my other emotions along with it. I made pretty bad choices for the next few years, which included dropping out of school.

My folks eventually reconciled. Years later, Mom took responsibility for things she did that she felt likely contributed to Dad’s fall from grace.

I discovered more about Dad’s upbringing and began to understand how much the feelings of rejection from his parents had negatively affected his life. As a result, I learned more about him than I probably would have known otherwise.

When we’re young, we see our parents as omnipotent, incapable of making mistakes. Finally recognizing the humanity of ALL people, regardless of age, gave me the strength and wisdom to forgive their transgressions as well as my own.

It was cathartic to realize that my parents were just normal people with flaws.

It's easy to honor one's parents when there is a healthy balance between the love they gave and the mistakes they made. Parents aren’t perfect; they’re human. I know this firsthand because I became a parent too, and made plenty of mistakes.

Some offenses are so terrible that they cannot be forgiven easily, if at all. But, forgiveness in those cases isn’t about excusing harmful behavior. It’s about letting go and finally living in peace. Every child who has ever been beaten, molested, and forgotten deserves that.

We went on to have decades of wonderful times together. My parents became grandparents and relished the role. They spent quality time with my kids, which created loving bonds that those (now) adult children continue to reminisce about today.

Dad’s been gone for ten years, but I think of him with love and gratitude. I remember not the blunders but the happy memories that his hard work and devotion made possible.