The south lost and thus the slaves were freed.
Get over it.
Get lost.
In the immortal words of Don Henly (who could have been speaking of the Southron contingent):
"You drag it around like a ball and chain
You wallow in the guilt; you wallow in the pain
You wave it like a flag, you wear it like a crown
Got your mind in the gutter, bringin' everybody down
You bitch about the present and blame it on the past
I'd like to find your inner child and kick it's little ass
Get over it
Get over it
All this bitchin' and moanin' and pitchin' a fit
Get over it, get over it"