To say there had been a loss was ludicrous; one lost a shoe or a set of keys. You did not suffer the death of a child and say there was a loss. There was a catastrophe. A devastation. A hell.
That's why we read fiction, isn't it? To remind us that whatever we suffer, we're not the only ones?
What he did was wrong. He doesn't deserve your love. But he does deserve your forgiveness, because otherwise he will grow like a weed in your heart until it's choked and overrun. The only person who suffers, when you squirrel away all that hate, is you.
I don't understand why it's a sin if you love something and want to keep it from having to suffer.
The only person who suffers, when you squirrel alway all that hate, is you.
There are all sorts of losses people suffer - from the small to the large. You can lose your keys, your glasses, your virginity. You can lose your head, you can lose your heart, you can lose your mind. You can relinquish your home to move into assisted living, or have a child move overseas, or see a spouse vanish into dementia. Loss is more than just death, and grief is the gray shape-shifter of emotion.
But that's what love is, isn't it? When it hurts you more to see someone suffer than it does to take the pain away?
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