Love, and the significance thereof...

I don't get to live in the same world as most of you. So many people get to exist in their safe little bubbles where bad things happen to other people, where tragedy is not getting to go to Disneyland this year, where only old people die.

I don't have that luxury. The possibility of loss -- mindbending, heartwrenching loss -- is always looming. Thinking otherwise is really an illusion. A comfortable one maybe, but an illusion nonetheless. If you're still living there, enjoy it. It can all crumble in upon you in an instant.

And when it does, truly loving ever again is the hardest lesson you'll learn in your life. But if you can manage, the love you feel is like no other. Every moment of loving and being loved is simultaneously eternal and ephemeral. Being vulnerable becomes a blessing. Opening your heart to the world becomes second nature, because if the worst didn't kill you, what is left to fear?

And yet, the import of what it means to be willing to love stays with you forever. Never to be treated lightly, and always honored and respected. A blessing, and a curse.