Forgiveness in letting go

I was just washing my kitchen floor. Deep subject, right? But as I washed I had to move the rug in front of the sink and I felt the frustration, the tension, once again.
I used to have some padded carpet pieces that I loved. My floor is tile and I have feet and a back that are often in pain. Those padded rug pieces saved me. They weren't beautiful to look at, though they weren't ugly either, just sort of nondescript. But I loved having them there. Then someone threw them out. To my knowledge there was no good reason. I was left with hard, cold tile under my feet. I was angry. I fumed. When the one who did it didn't seem to care I got frustrated. I got angrier. They should admit that they had done wrong, that it was unloving, and they didn't.
To make matters worse, for a gift-giving occasion, I was given a rug I don't like and that doesn't have padding to put in front of the sink. It doesn't match my kitchen. But I was supposed to be thankful for it. I wasn't.
And so today, probably three years later, that rug still causes my grief. What a waste.
The person who threw out my rugs was wrong to do so. Sure it would be nice if they realized it. But it's up to me to let it go. I can't force someone else to my viewpoint nor convince them of their guilt if they don't want to be. All I can do is let it go. Not deny it was wrong. Not say I'm making a mountain out of molehill. But after I've confronted the fact that it was a wrong thing to do I only punish myself by hanging onto that hurt. It's not good for my blood pressure and it's not good for my heart.