To Forgive Is To Forget

I am often in the position of standing in a singular moment in awe of what the world has to offer. For the longest time I wondered how my parents could forgive and let go. Having grown up watching my parents give whatever they had to those who needed it, seemingly without a return on their investment, I have often wondered how do they not resent giving so much and not receiving in return an equal or greater amount (I am not speaking in monetary terms here).

Yesterday I discovered the reason why. I was sitting in mass next to my husband after a perfect morning. Sleeping in, making breakfast for my boys (the girls were at their mothers), being at mass together as a family and still bothered by issues from times in the long and recent past. When I returned from the pity party I was having for myself in my head I realized Father Steve was giving his homily. He was talking about forgiveness. Forgiveness, he said, must be coupled with forgetfulness. One must forgive and forget. His words were profound. If you have to spend the energy to hold on to the issue and catalog it away, have you really forgiven that person?

It made me realize we are always taught to forgive, but no one tells us to then forget, to let it go, release it into the universe. This realization answered the question I had pondered about my parents for so many years. They are able to forgive because they are able to forget. They don't hold on to how painful it was to hear your child tell you they hate you, or how sad it made them when their friends didn't call when Mom was so sick, or how hard it was to have to stop working because their body gave out before their minds (this last point is still debated over dinner, the losing their mind, not the forgiveness part). They were able to forgive because they were able to forget. And in forgiving and forgetting they have been able to embrace the next phase of their life without a huge sense of loss but an appreciation for what they have.

It is in this way I hope I will become most like my parents.