I recently read Joan Didion’s book, The Year of Magical Thinking (2005). Here is a quote from this deep, grace filled book.
We are not idealised wild things, we are imperfect mortals, aware of that mortality even as we push away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses, we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. As we were. As we are no longer. As we will one day not be at all.