When my 15-year-old daughter got pregnant by a boy from a very poor family in our town, we banished her to my cousin’s care in the province until she gave birth and finished her college another year. We couldn’t accept, or have anything to do with, the very low status of the boy’s family. His mother was a vegetable vendor who sold her produce on the market fringe that were almost rotten. The father was a part-time janitor in a local barber shop and his three siblings, though all students, studied in public schools. Our family had a name and a respectable business, and they were definitely not our equal.
The boy pleaded with my daughter to elope with him and have a family together, but we decided for her. We wouldn’t even allow him to see his baby, or his parents who begged the baby’s caretaker when we were away. That went on for a long while until he and his family finally gave up—never seeing the baby up close or even holding him.
Years past and my rebellious daughter married an OFW. Initially, he showered her with gifts when he’d come home. We were glad for her because we thought she’d found a man suited to her, at last. He told her he finished engineering only to be outed later that he was just a truck driver who got his job in the Middle East only because he was recommended by a friend, a supervisor in the company. He barely finished high school. Then, he was fired because he was always drunk. When he came home, he had no savings and couldn’t find work. He finally landed a job as a family driver.
The boy who got my daughter pregnant, who worked lowly jobs to support his education, graduated college with honors, got a scholarship for his MBA abroad, came home and is now a partner in a reputable corporation. All his siblings got extremely lucky themselves and together pooled their resources to buy their parents a very nice house in a subdivision in our province.
As for us, the fortunes of my family took a very bad turn. The business we thought would go on forever went bankrupt. Our home and other properties had to be sold at a huge loss, and now my husband and I live with a married daughter who has no kids. My other children aren’t doing very well either.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think we’d be in this position. Isn’t life crazy? In my lonely moments, I want to apologize to this boy, now a man, and tell him and his family how wrong we were to have treated them the way we did. He already has a family of his own. His son out of wedlock, now in his early 20s, has a family himself, and I thought it’d be nice if father and son got together finally. I know it is embarrassing but should I try it anyway?
—RICHES TO RAGS
Yes, isn’t life crazy? Crazy fair, that is. Everything is in constant flux and whoever thinks otherwise is delusional. Of course you can apologize. Saying sorry and meaning it, is always nice. Only fools and morons who have their heads in the cloud think otherwise. But honestly now—cross your heart and hope to die—would you be thinking of offering this apology if the boy did not become the success that he is today? Would it even have crossed your mind?
Whatever creative thoughts you’re spinning in your head—just think it’s never too late to express your regret. Your karma will thank you, your stressed veins and arteries will thank you, the heavens will thank you, and you’d thank you. This huge boulder of pain will be lifted from your bosom and your positive energy will start flowing again. It’s been clogged up all these years and there’s nothing like cleansing the angst, the negativity, and breaking free.
It’s the admission, the owning-up that you did someone wrong, that you made certain people very unhappy, and—that you’re finally saying sorry is so liberating. Never mind if it took years to clear up the air. As one writer said, “If I’ve learned one lesson from all that’s happened to me, it’s that there is no such thing as the biggest mistake of your existence. There’s no such thing as ruining your life. Life’s a pretty resilient thing, it turns out.”
Go for it. Go crazy. Let good vibrations fill your heart again.