There's A Reason They Call It A Marathon

Last night, the boy and I were on the phone for (a record, a stupid) about seven hours. Yeah. Seven freakin' hours, because apparently the amounts of time we talk each day aren't clearly enough. (Honey, I absolutely love that we talk that often.)

We, after a bit of conversation, ended back up on the topic of my father. (Yea!!) The boy finally ended up asking me again, and again, and again, about what I needed from my father. After numerous answers, none of which were true, I finally came up with the truth:

I need him to know what he did wrong without me bringing it up.

Those of you who know me in real life know already what I say about my father. You also know how proud I am, in general. So I would never feel comfortably about explaining the issues that we have.

I also know that my father will never do this, and I will never get resolution. Yet, I think it's OK to forgive from afar, without the dramatic, never-ending, painful conversations.

Do you think I'm wrong?