Letting Go

After forgiveness 

The phrase “letting go” has rolled around my head and my heart all week. Having forgiven, but remembering the pain. The injustice. The shock. The unfairness. The gossip. The apologies I deserved and will never get. How much I’ve had to let go because others were unaccountable. Questioning if I’m the common denominator in the failed relationships or if I just attract the wrong ones. Trying to let go of the memories of the good times because it makes the cut of betrayal so much deeper. 

Why am I always the one letting go? Why am I the one bothered by the action? Ultimately, why is there no conviction when I was wronged and should have been sought for reconciliation? That last one haunts me. 

Letting go is grieving. What was lost. What was expected. What never existed, but you thought did until the ugly truth was revealed. Letting go sometimes feels like “they got away with it.” But then we all face our own consequences for decisions we make. So there’s that. 

My grief has them in my prayers more than they know. More than I’m in theirs. I craved reconciliation for a long time. Multiple times. Now I pray for their brokenness before the same God I am broken before. I say “I let go. Help me let go. I want to let go.” I visualize letting go. 

But sometimes letting go feels like none of it mattered. And that’s not what I want either. Because it mattered. It mattered to me. And maybe that’s why the betrayal is deep and the grief is real and the letting go is hard.