I hate my mom but she doesn’t know it. It started when I was only a teen. I’m almost thirty years old now and I still can’t take the hatred out of my heart.

Our church had a new pastor. My mom had a position in church but my dad didn’t. Every day after church, my mom would stay in the church house for hours and come home in the evening, complaining about tiredness. She won’t cook and won’t do anything wives do for their husbands because it is a Sunday.

My dad was the kind who didn’t talk a lot. You won’t find him complaining or shouting or even fighting. I saw them exchanging words one day but immediately my dad saw me, he stopped but my mom continued as if she hadn’t seen me.

One day after church, we were told to wait behind, we the kids in the children’s choir. A white lady visited the church and wanted to have a meeting with us. My dad went home, my mom went to a leader’s meeting and after the meeting, I saw her entering the pastor’s office.

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Our meeting took like two hours. The white lady was teaching us a song and showing us videos of the places she had visited. By the time we closed, the church premises was empty but I didn’t see my mom coming out of the pastor’s office so I decided to wait for her.

Several minutes later, she wasn’t coming. “Maybe she doesn’t know I’m waiting for her so let me go in and tell her I’m around.”

I went and knocked but nobody answered. I opened the door and met an empty office. I stood there for a while, I don’t know what I was waiting for. A few minutes later, the door to the chamber flung open. My mom came out first. She was pulling down her skirt and was trying to tie the thread in the waist of the skirt. Her headscarf was hanging on her neck with a messy hair.

Immediately she saw me, she shuddered. “Herh Akos, What are you doing here.” She turned away to preen herself up. Pastor followed. He wasn’t wearing his spectacles. The first time I’d seen him without it. He looked sweaty in a short knicker and a t-shirt.

I was very young but I didn’t need a necromancer to tell me what had happened. I turned away and waited for her outside. When she came out and saw me, she was livid. She started shouting at me, “What are you doing here? Why are you not home? Did I ask you to wait for me? C’mon, leave here.”

I walked home while she followed, wearing the face of guilt and a smile of a heartbreaker. That’s where the hatred started. My dad was a good man and he didn’t deserve a cheat for a wife. He died not too long ago but while my mom was mourning, all I could feel for her was hatred.

The surprising thing is, they had a good marriage. They took very good care of us. My mom was very responsible and fought our fights for us. You can celebrate her on Mother’s Day and you won’t be wrong but she cheated. She slept with a pastor who preached against adultery in church and counselled women who had cheating husbands.

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My dad is dead and gone. I don’t want to carry on with the hatred. Looking at how my mom has aged, she deserves love from all of us, but I can’t love her the way she deserves. They say I should talk to her about it now that my dad is no more. It’s the only way I can forgive her. I feel she would lie about it. I feel she would be defensive and even hate me for carrying this information for over sixteen years.

Should I? Or I should learn to let go and love her regardless? Is it even possible to love someone without learning to forgive first?

—Akos

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