forgiven not forgotten

Its finally a decent enough hour to write. The morning is soft and cool, and still tired, as if it did not get enough sleep from the past night. The day is just beginning for offices all over this city, hit the coffee maker button and brew. The traffic finally lets up a bit, and you accelerate to your destination before it catches up with you.
Right here, it is peaceful. I don't have to commute. I can sit here in my pajamas. Though I am prone to striving about it, I am tied to a place of great blessing, requiring my patience, obedience and endurance.

Last night I began to think about Dad again. I miss him a lot. "she goes to search for the man she's forgiven, he's not forgotten" - I search my memories, I replay the past times to help me remember him. A recollection of broken things, interspersed with genuine good times. But I have forgiven him, I did a long time ago. I forgave him for the way he told us that he wanted to live. I let it go. But I have not forgotten that he is still my father. Last night, we went to see "Walk the Line", and though Johnny Cash created a sad life for himself, there was a resolve in the end, there was some sort of reconciling. I walked away wishing that the same would apply to my father. I keep praying that he'll come around. Until that time, I grieve in my heart for him. I can't imagine a life without one's own father, even if he's hurt you.
Sorry, that was a lot to relate here, but its been on my mind.
Anyway, life goes on-