I am realizing people hurt in different ways. No pain looks the same. They don’t laugh at the same jokes. They stop tending to the garden. Leave all the lights off. Pick at their fingernails. 
I try not to focus on what their hurt looks like so much anymore, but what still remains the same; their perfume, their favorite colors and hiding places, and what it means to feel better. Getting out of bed. A good, warm lunch at the diner. Curling their hair or doing the dishes. 
Regardless of what sadness looks like, wearing their body like old clothes, I watch the way they come back to themselves, every time. Granting what time they need for themselves. Undressing the loneliness. Filling the absence.  
How gorgeous it is to watch someone be well.

Schuyler Peck, They Way We Hurt

Wait for someone who could be the moon for you. Just as strong, just as steady, illuminating changes and seas and blooming flowers and summer nights. They’d wait for you in the dark. They’d dance around the sun. They’d receive your primal howls, your secrets, your dreams and shifting tides. Wait for the moon. Wait for nothing less than what steals your breath. What breaks you open. What lures your soul. What helps you rise.

Victoria Erickson

‘If you are willing to look at another person’s behavior toward you as a reflection of the state of their relationship with themselves rather than a statement about your value as a person, then you will, over a period of time cease to react at all.

Yogi Bhajan