A favorite author of mine, Clare Vanderpool, wrote, “Who would think that one could love without being crushed under the weight of it.”
Would it be easier to avoid it, to refuse growing close, for we know the risk … sickness, injury, alienation, disease. That which will separate us, hearts mended and then rent. And it happens to all, sooner or later. Or do we take the risk? Maybe thats what it means to be human, and so we sit in hospital rooms, substituting cafeteria towels for Kleenex, blowing and wiping tears onto wetted sleeves. But we keep loving, keep taking the risk, because we are human. It just hurts so damn bad.