The death of love is always bitter-sweet, regardless of circumstance.
To deny the hurt and sadness that comes with the death of a relationship, even if you got hurt, you did the damage or cut the strings, is like denying yourself air.
No one goes into a relation with its demise in mind, we don’t ask the universe to wedge walls between the love we feel, we don’t pray for infidelity and we don’t welcome death. When the shackles are broken it can indeed feel like coming up for air or seeing the sun for the first time in far too long but there will always be a void left by the death of love, maybe not right away but eventually the feeling of loneliness and a lack of closeness catches up with us, the empty spaces and missing photos, midnight spooning and laughing out loud and yes we rejoice in the freedom of singledom and run free from the burden of constant conflict yet there is always something in that missing face that we search for in others in the street, whether we realise it or not we all suffer when love dies.
We suffer like the trees in winter.
A part of us gets stripped away when love leaves with the Autumn but only to be replaced with the fresh green of Spring, part of us is reborn and we continue to grow through the years, season to season, lover to lover until we find the one who will become our eternal summer.