...there was no point in sighing after what I could not have. It only distracted me from what I did have.

Leave old pains alone. When they cease coming to call, do not invite them back.

He longed for cleanliness and tidiness: it was hard to find peace in the middle of disorder.

The knowledge that he had left me with no intent ever to return had come over me in tiny droplets of realization spread over the years. And each droplet of comprehension brought its own small measure of hurt...He had wished me well in finding my own fate to follow, and I never doubted his sincerity. But it had taken me years to accept that his absence in my life was a deliberate finality, an act he had chosen, a thing completed even as some part of my soul still dangled, waiting for his return.

I lived my grief; I slept mourning and ate sorrow and drank tears. I ignored all else.

As if he hadn't always known he was loved the best. That he was the Beloved.