No, there’s no such thing as somebody who only ever makes you feel happy and complete. Inevitably there’s struggle and friction, life demands it. At love’s autumn these points of contention come into clearer and clearer focus, stinging hints as the relationship descends from its apex into sublunary companionship and then ends.
In light of such pain love’s worth is redeemed by those few precious moments of absolute perfection, when everything is easy and free and happy, when you feel unquenchable thirst for your love, when you dance across water and fly through galaxies, when you laugh at mortality because you’ve already experienced life in all the fullness it could possibly afford. No hyperbole could overestimate the power of such moments, they are the culmination of every struggle and the answer to every “why?” Love is completion.
A token for love lost.