All these things I say
The way you make me feel
I can't believe you're real
You are good to me
You are good to me
You are good to me

Previously

“Every tear is important, Susan, but none more than these. They cleanse and free you, dear heart. Drink in the joy and gladness of your freedom.” Even as he spoke he seemed to be fading; a very large facsimile of a Cheshire Cat, but with the wisdom of healing instead of irony. She looked in her mother’s face to see it fading as well; a well-worn but cheerful visage that conveyed hope even as Louise spoke to her daughter for the last time.”

It began to rain; softly at first, but then in large droplets that fell almost soundlessly next to the thunder that roared from above, if it really was thunder. She shuddered at the sound and was almost taken aback by the flashing light until she gazed once again into the woman’s eyes. Peace and joy replaced fear in that moment as she knew everything would finally be righted and everything would be alright….

Susan stood in the middle of a large, brightly lit hall. The sound of a soft breeze echoed; the quiet flapping of large tapestries against the marble walls. It was almost like a palace. And wherein a palace she stood, there must be some royalty. She looked down at her clothes; nothing more than the usual jeans and sweater she had been wearing….hardly the garb in which to welcome a king or queen. She heard a voice; booming and gentle at the same time, it shook her being while all at once soothing her soul.

She stepped away from the table and found herself; not in a marble hall, but in a clear, clean meadow. A cool stream of fresh flowery air filled her lungs and she smiled….

Nomahagen Park, late October...

Jerry sat in a bench facing the pond, looking nervously at his watch.

“10:26….damn.” He grabbed the bag of bread from his backpack and reached in for a handful, which he strewed across the ground in front of the bench. Several ducks and even an enterprising seagull walked over and began pecking at the food and each other.

“Dad…” He heard a voice from over his shoulder. He nodded and half-smiled before pointing to the bench without word. Susan sat down on the opposite end. He opened the bag of bread pieces once again, offering it to her silently. She took the bag almost cautiously, as if by handling it she might somehow make that dreaded contact with him. He spoke…

“Susan…” She looked up and away for a moment before turning to him wordlessly, blinking back tears.

“Susan…” He paused. It was only the third time in her lifetime that the most important person in her life spoke her name. He continued haltingly.

“I am so sorry.” Just that with no other modifiers or excuses. Still she held back. How in God’s name could anyone be expected to forgive such a betrayal? But still something in her heart persisted. She closed her eyes; tears streaming down her face. She had determined before hand to forgive him but it was so hard. What was it that she had heard once? As unfair as his treatment was, there was no fairness at all in life; not that it was bad, but that there was no scale weighing hurt against any blessing.

“Susan?” She looked up to see his face a mask of grief; not in that self-pitying sense that he had always conveyed. But real grief over a loss for which neither could bear. But how many times had she seen this? Contrition followed by disappointment. She took a deep breath and spoke.

“Do you know why we loved you reading to us at bedtime, Dad?” He squinted slightly; doesn’t every child enjoy bedtime reading? She shook her head no, almost hearing the words in his heart.

“Because it was the only time we saw you. When you read to us…when you and Mommy read to us it was the only time we saw you together other than in some line at church shaking hands and praying…” He went to speak and she cut him off with a dismissive wave.

“You had time for everyone but us, Dad. It didn’t matter that Danny scored a winning goal if you were off at the hospital visiting someone. It wasn’t ever good; when Carlo got that debate trophy in Middle School, you didn’t even say a word that night. Someone else was hurt or sad or scared and you helped them. Mommy…” Her voice began to break and he went to speak. Once again, she halted him, but instead of a dismissive wave, she gasped and held her hand out. He took it, patting it gently. She sniffled a bit and spoke again.

“You walked away from me when I needed you most, Dad. Mommy was gone,” she struggled to continue. Taking a deep breath, she plunged back into the cold water of the painful moments of her mother’s death.

“She …. You weren’t there, Dad. Something…I don’t even remember what, but she needed you every day, and you weren’t there for her. And you haven’t been there for me. When you came down the stairs at Lina’s …our home, it was like a dream… a Disney movie where everything turns out okay in the end. And then you left without a word. Why should I ….” She stopped at the squeeze of her hand.

“Third time’s the charm?” She thought to herself. Where did that even come from? Something about success after two failures. She realized that she had every reason to doubt; every reason to shy away in self-preservation. But in her heart she also realized something much greater…

“I’ve been looking…” She collected herself and continued to speak.

“I’ve been looking for things to forgive, Dad. Not just forgive, but looking for offenses to forgive. Keeping track…”

“Susan?” Jerry squeezed her hand once again; his speaking her name almost a way to ease her choice; an open door through which to walk. She smiled at him; a relieved smile that had more to do with her own forgiveness than anything of his.

“Dad…I’m so sorry. I’ve been so angry for so long, and I … Please forgive me?” She began to sob. He sidled closer to her and held her as she wept. No other words would have been needed between them; the first embrace between father and daughter a reason for celebration, if only for such a short time as Jerry spoke.

“We both…. I’m so glad that you’re…my daughter.” Proud would have been the word many would have expected; her prowess at archery would give any father reason to be proud. And her persistence and endurance in becoming herself in a manner of speaking after facing such a long challenge to be whom she was meant to be. But the words were so important. He was glad and she was finally his daughter.

“I’m so glad you’re my Dad.” She pulled back and their smiles mingled happily….

All these things I say
The way you make me feel
I can't believe you're real

Dunkin Donuts, Cranford, a few weeks later…

Noorah sat with her back to the large window facing the parking lot. Susan walked over and put two large Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate down on the table along with two crullers. As she sat down, she felt someone walk up behind her.

“Susan?” The voice was familiar but the timber and even the ‘mood’ of the voice was different; changed? Subdued? She turned around.

“Tim?” Hardly a question, but a question none the less; Susan sat down almost unconsciously as she stared at her former friend. At least that’s what he appeared to be since he looked nothing like what any their classmates might have remembered.

“I’ve moved out of my house… Dad didn’t quite find it in his heart….” Tim shook his head; a gesture mirrored by both Susan and Noorah as they continued to stare at him. His clothes hadn’t changed at all; still a bit skate-boardish, so to speak. But his face seemed different; a change in his demeanor that signaled something deep inside was going on. He didn’t show any tears; not as a defense, but almost because what he was telling them had already been seen to emotionally.

“Mom was upset….more than upset. I think she’s …they’re getting counseling.” He put his head down; the counseling they would be getting would likely point fingers at his mother and him in an effort to ‘fix’ everyone; everyone being anyone besides his father.

“I’m so sorry, Tim.” Susan stood up and hugged the boy awkwardly. He patted her back as she held him tight. It became immediately apparent that he was human after all, and he began to cry in her arms. Noorah reached over and grabbed his hand.

“N…no…Susan? I…I’m sorry. For everything. For nothing….” The choice of words seemed odd until he continued.

“Everything I’ve….b…believed about myself is nothing….it’s never been real. Just what my father told me. I…” He looked around Susan and saw Noorah’s half-frown of empathy. It hurt to find her so kind and considerate; making what he had to say all the more painful.

“I realized….. I….I’m different….”

“Different?”

“I… the same.” It made no sense until he put the two together.

“You and me…. The same….” He pulled back and looked at her up and down; almost an inventory, but entirely benign, as if he was listing her assets rather than being his normal judgmental self. He blinked back tears even as they flowed. The look on his face seemed to be one of defeat, but it wasn’t over what was bad in him, but what was good. Like he finally gave in to what he had wondered about all his life.

“I’m not what my father wants me to be… not who…not anything. He hates me. Just like you.”

“I don’t hate you, Tim….” Susan went to pull him back into an embrace but the boy shook his head.

“No…not you….He hates me because I’m just like you….” His voice trailed off as his eyes repeated the same quick inventory. Susan shook her head; wondering what he was looking at. Noorah noticed her expression and her gaze darted back and forth between the two until her eyes widened in understanding recognition.

“Like us, Tim?” Noorah said it softly; no condemnation or proud enlightenment, but instead an calm empathetic near-sigh that spoke to the boy’s heart. He nodded; almost wearily.

“He hates you just the way he hates us?”

“Us?” Susan said and it dawned on her exactly what Tim had been trying to share. It wasn’t at all like the stories she had read or even any of the dreams she imagined for herself nor for Noorah or anyone else for that matter. It was exactly the same pain and sadness and sorrow and almost helpless resign she had felt every single day of her estrangement with her father. It wasn’t about him or her or Noorah only, but about every person she knew who had struggled with the same rejection.

“I’m so sorry, Tim.” Noorah said as she rubbed his hand softly. Susan pulled him close. It crossed her mind to ask him a thousand questions, but he didn’t need to explain himself; he…. the person inside needed a friend to hold that inner being since no one else on the face of the earth would…at least for the present. She asked one question only; an understandable curiosity that she had witnessed in others when she first told her friends who she was.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t have one….” It was all too freeing and painful at the same time. What should have been a joyous occasion became instead a moment of sad reflection; that feeling of being unworthy and unloved that had never crossed Tim’s mind since he was or had at least tried to be what his father demanded. But there had almost been no time for the newness and wonder of self-awareness as his heart had been crushed by his father’s angry demands.

“I think it’s okay for now if we just call you dear or honey, okay?” Noorah said. Tim looked at her and half-smiled before dissolving further into a tearful renewal mixed equally with sadness and joy.

“It’s okay, honey. It’s okay…”

Some weeks later....

“It’s not fair.” Susan wept on Jerry’s shoulder; her face buried in his jacket.

“I’m so sorry,” Jerry wept along with her. He stroked her hair. How could a loving God allow them to reconcile only to take him away so soon? What was her faith even worth alongside this betrayal? She wanted to pound his chest for all the times she needed him. She wanted to scream for all the times she fell asleep feeling hurt and rejected. And now the ultimate rejection? But something deep inside her seemed to rise up; a warm feeling that pushed aside the anger like a cool shower on a warm day.

“Dad? I don’t want to lose you….Now that you’ve…” she sobbed.

“Now that I’ve found you? You will never lose me….” He wanted to add her name, but even then it was still so awkward to think of her in a completely different way. Acceptance and understanding don’t always tag along with comprehension. He spoke.

“You have room in your heart next to Mom for me, don’t you?” It was almost a silly question, but after years of neglect, it was hard for Jerry to apprehend the forgiveness she had already extended. She nodded, blinking back tears while her face displayed almost hurt.

“I…don’t want to have you….just in my heart, Dad…. I want to hold you and have you hold me and tell me that everything will be okay.”

“I know, honey, I know.” It was the first time since she was five that he had called her honey. Almost better than her own name; it was an endearment that would mean the world to her…a treasure to be held close to her heart. And as sad as the moment was, she still felt in some wondrous way that as painful as it might be, even now it was going to be alright….

Mid-December...

The morning dew lay almost icy against the cold but was warming in the early sunshine. Noorah stood next to Susan; a cold rain had fallen, and their umbrella seemed completely useless. She stared at the grave plaque.

“Louise Adrian Albanese; 1968 - 2006, Beloved Wife and Mother 'too soon'" And beside her plaque, a new one had been placed; "Gerald Mark Albanese 1961 — 2014, Beloved Husband of Louise; Father to Susan, Daniel, and Carlo 'never too late'”

“Promise me you won’t be upset?” Susan frowned and Noorah grabbed her arm and squeezed gently.

“I know…it really isn’t fair, no matter what anyone says. And it hurts so much.” She half-smiled at Susan, causing her to surrender to the safety that Noorah offered. She began to cry. Noorah pulled her close for a hug. After a few minutes Susan pulled away slightly and smiled, as if to say ‘I’m alright.” Noorah squeezed her hand.

“Danny and Carlo are going to meet us at home. Will your sister be able to make it for dinner?”

“She called to say she might be a little late, but she’ll be there. My Mom and Dad are going to get there late as well, but my father said to give you this, okay?” Noorah stepped close and kissed Susan on both cheeks; a warm gesture from a loving parent.

“And of course both he and Mom will tell you this, but Dad wanted you to hear it first thing, okay? Khosh Amadid!” Susan blushed and tears came to her eyes; the one thing she needed more than anything else in her life finally bestowed twice. She had been learning Farsi, and was touched; welcomed by a new family; a long-sought sense of worth that began when her father changed and now made even better. She smiled and spoke.

“Mamnoon,” a near whisper followed by a kiss on both cheeks for Noorah. She had so much to be thankful for, but especially for the love she shared with the love of her life. She pulled Noorah in for a strong hug.

“Wish me luck?” It was going to be an interesting afternoon. She awaited the final decision by the committee; the Olympics were only months away, and it was a pretty good bet that she’d make the team. The entire Korean contingent and the Chinese as well would likely sweep the medals in some fashion, but she’d give it all she had. And of course the day was ever more special.

“Happy Birthday,” Noorah said. She handed Susan a box wrapped in pink tissue with a red ribbon.

“It’s turquoise. I know you love the color, but are you sure?” Susan smiled at her question and nodded before opening up the box. Another smile brightened an otherwise dreary day as she pulled the bright soft garment from the box and put it on.

“How do I look?” She asked. Noorah smiled.

“You look beautiful.” She touched the cloth by Susan’s throat, brushing against the silver cross that hung on a chain around Susan’s neck as she adjusted the hijab. The drape of the soft fabric covered the cross, causing Noorah to speak,

“I’m sorry… I know this is important to you, “ she said as she pointed to where the cross would normally be displayed.

“It’s fine. I have it in my heart.” She paused and a grin widened as she said finally,

“Just like you!” She looked around; they were alone in the morning cold on a hillside almost hidden by trees. A rare moment where she could show what she meant in a modest way; she kissed Noorah and squeezed her hand.

“In my heart."

I never thought I'd find
A heart that fit with mine
Sometimes the world is kind
You are good to me
You are good to me
You are good to me

You are good to me
You are good to me
You are good to me
You are good to me
You are good to me