Grief is a chore. Being together with someone for a long time and then suddenly not together jars and rattles. I hate it when things don't work out. In the back of my mind, my mom's words whisper: Don't say hate.
Love is this sort of ambiguous plethora of absolved theory and predicate. We don't know what the hell it really means or requires.
If we live within a specific context, spiritual theories may interest us and offer guidance. This kind of theory and any psychological theory generally involves an expansion of some kind. This expansion typically requires a commitment or overcoming of hardship of one kind or another.
All of this is to say that sometimes I think the point of life is to expand love. To continue to connect even when the shit is awful, monotonous. Lonely.
Separation from others can be a deep shallow exploration that returns us to true nature. A place where grief is important and released. Where we observe our emotions, offer ourselves compassion, and rest in the moment.
Well hello there.