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You've been suffering too, and I've missed everything. Something's going on between you two, isn't it?" "I … I don't even know. But please," I pleaded. "Please don't do that. If I needed you, I'd tell you." "No, you wouldn't. Not right now."
"Life is short, so short, so precious, every minute, every day. Don't let the people you love, the people who make you happy, the people who bring you joy — don't let them go. Hang on to them, even when it hurts. When it seems impossible. Hold on to the things that breathe life into you. Listen to your soul and honor what it tells you. Live. Fight for what you love. Because one day, you'll be where I am, and in that moment I want you to look back gladly, with no regrets."
That's what no one ever tells you. Funerals are a selfless act, a long day of grief to share with others whether you want to or not. They're not about the ones closest to the impact of the loss — those closest must endure the arduous day with their grief put on display, a tamped down, quiet version of the screaming truth. The others feel the loss but don't have to hide it, don't have to pretend, don't have to give in a time where they have nothing to give.
"War never healed anyone, especially not you."
