Grief is not an accident, nor a flaw of the heart.
It is the shadow cast by love,
and no life that has known love can escape it.

To grieve deeply is not a mark of weakness,
but of fullness.
For the heart does not mourn emptiness,
it mourns only what was real,
what once gave weight to our existence.

Love and grief are twin truths,
bound together in the order of things.
To receive one is to inherit the other.
When love departs, grief remains,
not as an enemy, but as its last and faithful servant.

Thus, to grieve is to testify,
that there was something in this fleeting world
so worthy, so profound,
that its absence could unmake us.

Grief, then, is the final language of love.
Where lips fall silent,
where hands can no longer reach,
grief speaks, and in speaking,
keeps love alive.