The end of a wedding reception is always so depressing. And only the bride and groom are spared, jetting off into the sunset while the rest of us wake up the next morning to just another day.

Sometimes love can be an ugly thing.

During the long stretches of quiet two-lane highway, with the sun setting in the distance, it was somehow easier to say things aloud, and regardless of what was said, we just kept moving toward that horizon.

None of it meant anything, and all of it was important.

That was the hard thing about grief, and the grieving. They spoke another language, and the words we knew always fell short of what we wanted them to say.

It all depends on how you choose to live it. It's like forever, always changing.

Oh darling, don't be bitter. It's the first instinct of the weak.