The last thing I ever said to my father was "I love you, Daddy.
Be careful and be safe."
The last words that he told me were "I
love you with all of my heart."
My father was murdered by four young people
bent on killing someone.
One of them was a 13-year-old boy,
who was the exact same age as my son.
The events of that night devastated me.
I wanted them to pay.
I turned to prayer.
At one point early on, I thought I was handling my grief well.
I thought if I worked hard, I thought
if I took care of my children and took care of my family
and helped them through their grief, that I was handling it.
But in reality, I wasn't dealing with my grief.
I was running from my grief.
My ability to deal with it was becoming weaker and weaker
until the point where I couldn't even think about my father.
The sweetest memories were reduced to the images that
were in my mind of his murder.
As the years passed, I would read my scriptures,
searching desperately for guidance.
I was in such a low place.
I didn't sleep more than two, three hours every night.
And I did that for about 18 years.
Throughout the years, I had a thought
that I needed to visit these individuals in prison.
It wasn't something that I wanted to do.
I was afraid.
But it was probably the one thing that I hadn't tried.
I had to do something to get my life back.
I had tried everything else.
I had no intention to forgive them.
I wanted to know if I hated them, because I knew one thing:
I knew I couldn't die and have hate in my heart.
But I'm so grateful that I did, because in doing that, I
was able to start the process.
I was able to look in their eyes.
I was able to see what my Father in Heaven
sees when He looks at them.
And having had that experience, there's
no way that I could do anything but forgive them and feel
the love for them my Father in Heaven felt.
And that made all the change in the world.
Faith in God includes faith in His timing.
And for me, it took 18 years--18 years of crying myself
to sleep.
When I walked in those prison doors,
that truly was the start of a day that would change.
I walked in those prison doors a shattered victim.
I walked out healed, free.
His grace is that part that carried me
through my darkest days and my loneliest nights,
that supported me, and, ultimately, that showed me
His infinite love for myself and for those four young people.
His grace is that part that made it so
that my heart could love them.