A long grudge keeps a very accurate ledger. Dates, exact phrasing, who else was in the room.
Most people can produce the whole thing fully formed twelve years later, which takes a kind of maintenance.
Forgiving isn't deciding the thing was fine, and it doesn't require the other person back in your life. It's closer to putting the ledger down — stopping the upkeep on a record nobody else is reading.
The relief, when it arrives, tends to be selfish and physical. People describe it as lighter rather than nobler, which is probably the more honest account of what has actually happened.