Love and Hate

A friend's father died early this morning -- just hours after the friend boarded a train and left his father's side in another city.

My friend (like me, in fact) had a relationship with his father that can best be described as loving someone you hate, or perhaps hating someone you love.

Nicely, there had been some reconcilliation over the past half year or so -- a lengthy and killing illness will afford that luxury. And my friend's father kissed him goodbye yesterday. A remarkable thing, really. Something so lovely, not to erase all the pain that came before, but lovely as it marked a point back to which the memories can more easily go. A new starting point for forgiveness in the relationship, which has just ended, perhaps.