I don’t consider myself a blogger. I’ve never been great with words. I talk a lot… but that’s different than a writer. I’m not a perfect speller, I’m terrible at grammar, and I definitely know nothing about blogging etiquette.

But every now and then, I can’t fit what I want to say into the caption of an Instagram post, so it becomes a blog. Today is one of those days.

If you don’t know the story of how I lost my Grandpa, I will give you the short story. If you would like to read more about it, you can here.

In 2015 my Grandpa Toby was shot and killed by a man because my grandpa had walked into his trailer to talk to him. We don’t know if he knocked or not, what we do know is that my Grandpa, at 79 years old was never angry, went there with good intentions and the 39-year old killer was inside waiting with a loaded gun. The killer ran from the scene and the manhunt lasted for hours. When found, he claimed self-defense. They never even put handcuffs on him. He walked away from that day unscathed, while a bomb had been dropped on my family. Five years later there has still been no justice.

For the sake of this blog I’m going to give the killer a FAKE name, we’ll call him John.

At this point in my life I had already developed anxiety, but never seen a professional for help. My Grandpa’s death destroyed me. I was angry and confused. As time went on, it became truly clear that John was not going to be held accountable for his actions.

Anxiety, panic, and PTSD started taking over my life. Not only did John steal my Grandpa, but he also stole me. A piece of me died the same day my Grandpa did. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. I found myself playing out different scenarios in my mind. If one thing from the past was different, would the future be changed? What if I didn’t go to Fresno, what if I visited them that day? Would he still be here?

I was losing my mind, I was completely consumed with darkness.

Then one day I picked up a book… a fictional book, about a child being killed, and the killer going to Heaven. Yup, you read that right, a man who killed a child, going to Heaven. Can anyone guess how that made me feel?! YEA RIGHT. NOT TODAY.

But then I read it again.

Then I watched the movie.

And I cried… And I cried.

This fictional book opened a door for me. I can’t completely explain why, or how, but it did.

It showed me that the killer was killing me. Anger was killing me. The only way to survive this was for me to save myself.

We all have different beliefs, and you may or may not agree with this, but God forgives. It was a lightbulb moment for me. I have no control over John, I have no control over what will happen to him in this life or the next. What I do have control over is MY LIFE. And I was letting his action destroy it.

I had to forgive, but it was not easy. I really worked at it. I talked about forgiveness, I journaled about forgiveness, I prayed about it.

Saying it out loud was one step, not just saying it in my head. Letting the words work their way from my thoughts, into my throat, and through my lips. “I forgive you” I remember saying “I forgive you,” to an empty room, and crying. Crying because it hurt, but also because I knew I was saving myself. I would not be held down by this weight any longer.

I prayed more, journaled, and cried. I knew I still needed to do one more thing, before I truly felt like I broke the chain that was holding me down. I had to tell John. It made me sick to my stomach just thinking about it. I didn’t even know where he was, or how I would tell him.

So just like many of us, I turned to social media. I searched, and searched… then the day came, I found him. I looked at his profile picture, the man who murdered my Grandpa and blew up my life. I was going to forgive him.

I opened up the messenger and typed

….

I forgive you.

He no longer had a hold on me, and I could start my healing process. The truth is that the forgiveness was for me. I released so much that day. It was painful, I was digging myself out of a very deep hole, and I knew I had made it. My healing process could finally start.

“To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.” - Lewis B. Smedes

How I Forgave a Murderer