When I was seven, my father walked away on my mother and two brothers at the time. Being in a home with a single income was not easy for my mother and I will never fully understand why we had to go through what we did. For me, my father leaving us was the most tough thing in my life, and I hated him for putting us through hunger and moments of desperate needs. Years later my father came back into the picture, and I had this horrible image of him for what he had done to us I was angry at my mother for giving him a chance to come back when we were doing just fine without him. Forgiveness is an act of love, but does distance really makes the love grow fonder with time?
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