In the name of the state, I ask forgiveness for the historic responsibility it has for the pain and death suffered by dozens of thousands of Guatemalans in 36 years of armed conflict.

I ask all Guatemalans to forgive one another ... and together join the pilgrimage toward the goal of national reconciliation.

Today we want to begin a tradition. We have a purpose that could not be more beautiful and more noble than peace.

The pain we cause will haunt our memories and eat at our souls. I do not seek forgiveness, only the emptiness of death.

Did she say anything before she died?" he asked.
"Yes," the surgeon said. "She said, 'Forgive him'"
"Forgive him?" my father asked.
"I think she was referring to the drunk driver who killed her."
Wow.
My grandmother's last act on earth was a call for forgiveness, love and tolerance.
She wanted us to forgive Gerald, the dumb-ass Spokane Indian alcoholic who ran her over and killed her.
I think My Dad wanted to go find Gerald and beat him to death.
I think my mother would have helped him.
I think I would have helped him, too.
But my grandmother wanted us to forgive her murderer.
Even dead, she was a better person than us.

I forgive him and like water draining from the sand after a wave, the power he held over me disappears. A slow smile rises on my face.