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“You said, ‘I want that father-daughter relationship’ and that a part of you was ‘angry.’ You referred to what you want as ‘I,’ but to the anger as ‘it.’ You didn’t say you are angry. You said a ‘part of me.’ This part is angry, not you. Anger is a separate entity. But the want for your father is you.”

What the hell am I supposed to do with that? “It’s just words.”

“Is it? You have to find your true self. Anger is not your true self. It’s simply an aspect of your personality that takes over to protect you from what experience has taught are very real possibilities. Our emotions are always trying to protect us. If you didn’t have to protect yourself, how would you feel? That’s closer to your true self.”

Whoa … back up a minute. “My true self?”

The sound of steps accompanies his voice. “Yes. You said yourself that you are holding on to your old beliefs and anger. Holding on is as much a choice as letting go. But when you let go, when you truly let go, you are suddenly filled with empty spaces. You miss the burden, the comfort, of what is familiar. As destructive and painful as anger and unforgiveness are, for most people they’re still better than nothing. That anger validates them. Makes them righteous. None of that is your true self.”

I’m almost afraid to ask. I’m getting a headache. “How—how do I fix that? How do I learn to let go and become my true self?”

“It’s different for each person. You can let go a little at a time or all at once. But the key of truly letting go is to fill those empty spaces with something else, so whatever you let go of has no room to come back.”

I rub my temples. My cold hand soothes the building headache. “What do I fill the spaces up with?”

“That’s up to you. Love, hope, kindness, charity. Fill that space and time up with whatever you want as long as it is something good for you and those around you.”

“That’s a lot to think about.”

“Yes, and I’ll let you ponder about that on your own. We have two more meetings to talk about. Tell me about the last time you met your father. You said it was today.”

“We met for breakfast and talked. He’s nice. A good man. The kind of man I always wanted as a father. But now that he’s here, I don’t know what I want.”

“Don’t you?” he challenges me.

“What I want is impossible. What I want doesn’t matter. It will never be.” Why can’t he understand that?

“If by impossible, you mean change the past, then you are right. You can’t change it. But you can change the way you look at it. You can change the way you relate to your past. That’s within your power.”

I laugh. “Power? I have no power.”

“But you do. And we are getting sidetracked again. Working with what you have now—having your father back in your life—what do you want?”

I give in, put into words what I have told no one before. “I want to be loved, cared for. I want someone to care.”

“And your father? What does he want?”

I bite my thumb until it stings. “Forgiveness and to be a part of my life.”

“And why did that upset you so much?”

“Because he already has a family. A perfect one. He has a wife and two kids. I have siblings. I have a brother and a sister. And my father wants me to join them, he wants me to be a part of his family.”

“Isn’t it what you want too? A family?”

“Yes. But how can I? How can I let him—them get closer? My brother, my sister. They’re kids and innocent. How can I let them be tainted by me? By all the horrible things I did?”

“What horrible things?”

“Can we talk about the first time I met him now?” I wait for a response, not sure if he will let it go or ask again.

“Sure. We can. Tell me about the first time you met your father.”

“The first time I met him, it was not what I expected at all.” I turn onto my back and stare at the ceiling in the darkening room. “I expected him to be some kind of sleazy asshole. But he wasn’t. He’s young, clean cut, attractive even. And I have his hair and eye color. It was a shock to see so much of myself in this man I had never met.”

“Why did you expect him to be some kind of sleaze asshole?”

“The way my mother always talked about him. She lied. She lied about so many things.”