**scoots to edge of chair and starts nervously chewing fingernails**
haha well one of the last ones I had was a few years ago when I was in my old apartment. I had a 300/mo car payment and my rent (for this area) was expensive. I was working 3 jobs, picking books, delivering pizzas and backline at Arby's at 21 years old. Even with all of that and 70 hours a week I was still broke.
I had a saturday off so I spent it writing out checks for bills *sigh*, and then my parents invited me over for dinner. It was in the middle of the summer so we were all sitting around my parents fishpond in the backyard.
After I had done all my finances I had exactly 15 cents in my bank account - and it was 5 days to my next paycheck. I had absolutely no cash on me and my credit cards were already getting filled up.
I HATE depending on other people, and I hate when people pay for food for me. So I was really hesitant on asking for any money. I was the only one worried sick while we were sitting out back and I wasn't saying anything. Then my dad turns to me and says "you know, I'm really proud of you" as he usually does. Not knowing what to say I just simply asked, can I borrow some money.
Without flinching - he asks how much. All I needed was 75 dollars. He walked in and wrote me a check. Without asking why i needed it, or anything negative.
Well I thanked him and eventually he wanted to go to bed so I went home. I'd forgotten about the check for a few hours and when I went outside to have a cigarette I remembered it and pulled it out. He wrote me a check for 100 even.
Without any back story this seems just normal. A parent helping his kids out. Right?
Well, about 6-7 months earlier I still lived there and one night my dad and I got into a scrap because I didn't come and do the dishes when I finished eating my dinner.
He got mad because our cat got into the leftover steak. We got in a huge fight and I ended up breaking my finger. The only thing he was concerned about was the dent on the frige I left. He never asked how my hand was, he never offered to drive me to the hospital, etc. So when I found a place and moved out, he never helped me move anything. I moved 99% of my stuff by myself with a broken finger on my right hand.
Those 6-7 months I never forgave him for caring more about the frige than me, but when I got that check I had an epiphany. Love is too strong, and life is too short to hold grudges.
I've never held a hateful or otherwise grudge against any one person since that time.
