When we live a life of love, when we cherish each other as the divine spirit intends us to, those bonds are eternal. And so when one passes on before the other the sadness is great, the parting is pain, yet in this pain lives the promise of the reunion.
In acceptance of your loss, my sadness is a disappointment, one that I can live with because to stay would have meant my own demise. And whilst I would have sacrificed for you, you ran from every danger and left me to fend for myself alone. There comes a time when for your own survival you allow yourself to see the truth, because to almost die of heartbreak is more survivable than the alternative.
My sadness is that you broke your promise to cherish and love, to protect, to honour, to care. Yet my face is dry. My feet are ready to move on. I am older. I am wiser. My horizon calls from the other side of a frontier you cannot travel.
The sadness I have is resolute and square with your departure. I am sure you were always destined to take the selfish road, to never mature, to never learn the virtue of self sacrifice. This is not the sadness of tears, nor that of grief, yet the sadness of acceptance.
To leave you was a sadness, because if I ever had a sister it was you. You are the one who said you'd stand by me in battle. I believed you. I couldn't be sure that where I was going was the right path. It felt right, but to gamble with someone you love is so wrong. So I went. No goodbye. I hope you can forgive me.
The sadness within is well contained and I shed no tear at our parting, for it is with great pride that I am excluded from such a bunch of spineless morality-impinged gimps.
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