I BELIEVE IT IS BETTER TO FORGIVE THAN TO FORGET
Tiffany Head
Ohio Christian University

Authors Note
This paper was prepared for EN1010 English Composition 1 (ONL56) taught by Ingrid Buch-Wagler

This I believe that it is better to forgive than to forget, coming up as a child wasn’t easy for me, this is where and how I learned about true violence in the family, but as I grew up I learned that forgiveness is a powerful thing and it covered the love that I have for my family. God healed me from the hurt and pain I suffered as a child; however there is still a scar there, it’s just a reminder of the event, but without the pain. I am the oldest of two daughters between my mother and father. Far as long as I can remember my childhood isn’t something I can brag about. Yes, I had the picture perfect life; a mother and a father, two set of living grandparents, a host of aunts, uncles, and cousins, but what looked good on the outside was definitely different on the inside. My parents were both adulterers, and my father physically abused my mother on a regular basis. My sister and I never knew why our father would beat my mother, I’m quite sure it was because someone had told him when Mama would cheat on him or whenever he was mad with one of his other women. The one thing that use to stay on my mind is why was daddy so mean to Mama, but treated my sister and I like princesses? I thought the world of my father when he wasn’t beating up on my mother. I wouldlove to see him come home from work, and hated to see him leave the house to go out to be with his other women. My daddy was the provider, the protector, and at times my hero, and even though daddy would beat up on my mama; I was never afraid of him. I guess because of the love he had shown me and my sister. Whenever daddy would come home from work or out from being with his one of his women, he would come in and play with me, and talk to me about my day; then the next thing I would hear is “stay in here, and let me talk to your mama.” I always knew what was coming next. Screaming, the sounds of slaps, mama fallen on the floor, and her yelling “STOP! PLEASE STOP!” I would play with my little sister to keep her from getting scared, and when I couldn’t take it anymore I would then cry very loudly to try to make daddy stop. Hoping that would make him stop hitting her; sometimes it worked and a lot of times it didn’t. I remember the times when Mama would wake me and my sister up in the middle of the night to leave Daddy whenever he had left the house for a little while. He would always find us and made Mama bring us back home. I never wanted to go back and would beg my Mama to not go, but to keep the others family members safe because Daddy would threaten the others in the house that he was going to shoot his gun if she didn’t come out with his children, she had to go. The last and final beating was so terrifying that I hate to even talk about it to this day still. Daddy had been beating on Mama for what seem like for hours. Mama came running in the room where me and my sister was. It seemed like Daddy had blanked out or something because it seem like he didn’t notice that we were in the same room with them. We was screaming our heads off in fear for my Mother, and due to the fact that we didn’t have any neighbors around I knew no one could hear us; I was just hoping that Daddy would snap out of it if he heard us screaming. Then the next thing I heard is glass breaking, and then quite cries coming from my Mama. Daddy then stood up and all I could see was blood pouring from his face. That put me in a state of panic ( that was the beginning of my nerves break downs) I was climbing walls and doors in disbelief of what I was seeing. I never have seen so much blood in my life. My Mother had hit my father in the eye with a glass