Chapter 13: The Hardest Call of My Life

Half thinking, I started to walk back towards the festival. But wait…not so fast. I still had unfinished business.

My stomach churned harder than it did before. “Right…I have to call my mom.”

The fear was wrenching my gut but I knew I had to do it. Questions of doubt entered my mind. Would she still love me? Would she scold me? I decided that was out of my control and I owed her this. She’s given up so much for me.

I turned on my phone. 11:32 PM. Oh, I’m definitely going to wake her up. I have to try.

There was no answer. I had to talk to her. I left a feeble, sheepish voicemail on the verge of tears. “Mom? If you’re there can you pick up? I want to talk to you.”

I immediately called again, knowing she was probably still stirring awake.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” she asked with half anxiety at me calling in the dead of night and half joy at hearing my voice.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” From there, it all just poured out. I told her about the drug use. I told her about everything.

“What are you doing?” she asked rhetorically with an air of both concern and disapproval. The same kind of tone when I first got home past curfew, and got the, “Where have you been?!” question. They’re upset but more so concerned for my safety.

“I know Mom. Please realize this is really hard for me to do and realize that I’m trying to make things better by deciding to tell you all this.” I said with my voice shaking and tears streaming down my face.

This is the moment where she could have cast me off as a failure of a child, or she could forgive me. She realized this herself too, and immediately moved to forgive me.

“It’s okay baby.” Suddenly, my tears of sorrow turned to tears of joy. This was the turning point. The biggest turning point in my life

This is what forgiveness feels like. It washed over me, the pain bleeding out of my heart with every teardrop. The journey ahead was now a road of healing, rather than compartmentalizing all this bad blood I had harbored over the years. The bad blood was being flushed out in a cathartic waterfall.

This was the hardest conversation I have ever had in my life, but only up until I was forgiven. Then the weights lifted off of me. Being accepted by her again was liberating.

We spoke until 2:25 AM. It felt like one hour, but three had passed. We had so much to say. I said sorry in the first 5 minutes and the rest was just healing.