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Sadness. Anger. Rinse, repeat. So it has been for about a week. But never had the words of the Our Father held so much meaning: "forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us." I have to let the anger go. We'll certainly have to talk about it someday. Maybe not today. But if I knew I was dying tomorrow or Christ was returning, I'd call. I don't care what they said. They're lucky I haven't done it anyway. Perhaps that's defiant. But I don't take friendship lightly. I don't break it or allow it to be broken without a fight. In this case, especially because of Christ. Aren't we supposed to live each day as though it were the last? I can't do that if I nurture this anger. I wonder what it is, then?
I took some advice as a personal attack; I got angry. I replied immediately, always a bad idea. The way I understood the words fed some insecurities of mine. It made it sound as though I was forgetting lots of good things. And maybe I was.
I really can't bear this for 50 years, though.

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