"Jeff's outwardly strange behavior was unconsciously designed to support Jill in healing her unresolved relationship with her father."

Crying felt good to Jill. Her tears served as a powerful release and a possible turning point for her. A real breakthrough might not be far away, I thought.

"Tell me about the incident with my daughter, Lorraine, and Dad." I said.

"Well," Jill said, while composing herself. "I always felt unloved by Dad and really craved his love. He never held my hand or sat me on his lap much. I always felt there must be something wrong with me. When I was older, Mom told me she didn't think Dad was capable of loving anyone, not even her. At that time, I, more or less, made peace with that fact. I rationalized that if he wasn't really capable of loving anyone, then it wasn't my fault that he didn't love me. He really didn't love anyone. He hardly ever made a fuss of my kids -- his own grandchildren -- much less people or kids not his own. He was not a bad father. He just couldn't love. I felt sorry for him."

She cried some more, taking her time now. I knew what she meant about our father. He was a kind and gentle man but very quiet and withdrawn. For the most part, he certainly had seemed emotionally unavailable to anyone.

As Jill became more composed, she continued. "I remember a particular day at your house. Your daughter, Lorraine, was probably about four or five years old. That day Mom and Dad came down to visit from Leicester and we all came to your house. I saw Lorraine take Dad's hand. She said, 'Come on, Grandad. Let me show you the garden and all my flowers.' He was like putty in her hands. She led him everywhere and talked and talked and talked while showing him all the flowers. He was entranced by her. I watched them from the window the whole time. When they came back in, he put her on his lap and was as playful and joyful as I have ever seen him.

"I was devastated. 'So, he is able to love after all,' I thought. If he could love Lorraine, then why not me?" The last few words came out as a whisper followed by deep long tears of grief and sadness, tears held in for all those years.

I figured we had done enough for now, and suggested we make tea. (Well, we are English! We make tea no matter what!)

Interpreting Jill's story from a Radical Forgiveness standpoint, I easily saw that Jeff's outwardly strange behavior was unconsciously designed to support Jill in healing her unresolved relationship with her father. If she could see this and recognize the perfection in Jeff's behavior, she could heal her pain and Jeff's behavior would likely stop. However, I wasn't sure how to explain this to Jill in a way she could understand at this point in time. Luckily, I didn't have to try. She stumbled on the obvious connection by herself.

Later that day she asked me, "Colin, don't you think it's odd that Jeff's daughter, Lorraine, and your daughter, Lorraine, have the same name? Come to think of it, both of them are blonde and first born. Isn't that a strange coincidence! Do you think there's a connection?"

I laughed, and replied, "Absolutely. It's the key to understanding this whole situation."

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