Two friends of mine met him numerous times through their work in Africa. I was always envious of them.

"The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living."

To imagine what Nelson Mandela endured on that rock for over two decades, sleeping on the cold cement floor of a prison cell that was no wide enough to accommodate a prone grown man, was sobering indeed.

He had every right to emerge from captivity an angry and vengeful man, yet he proved himself to be one of the most forgiving leaders of this or any generation.

His calming and reassuring presence, even in retirement, will be greatly missed by all South Africans. We should say a prayer tonight for that country, as it navigates its way through the post-Mandela era.

The transition was not without bumps and bruises, but there were no great bloodletting, no retribution, no organized revenge on the former oppressors.

And I have forgiven this man in the last few days somehow. When I NEVER thought I could ever forgive him. But he was raised in the deep south as a black man, endured his own hells, and me and my mother unfortunately had to suffer because of it. But we all suffer as people, as mortals in this brief coil we keep tight in our hands (to bastardize Willy Shakes a Spear). I have forgiven him because I cannot allow his abuse to have that power anymore, or to define who he was, because there were times, very early in our relationship, that I can manage to muster a sweet memory from. And since he is the father of my brother and sister, there is no choice. Love has to prevail, or we as people will not.

Sorry, emotional time for me. Thank you Nelson Mandela!!