I'm sorry. I can love you. I can grieve for you, or with you. I can share your pain. But I cannot judge you.
Your father calls you to his court. You need not pack. You go garbed in glorious raiment. He waits eagerly by his palace doors to welcome you, and has prepared a place at the high table, by his side, in the company of the great-souled, honored, and best-beloved.
Like integrity, love of life was not a subject to be studied, it was a contagion to be caught. And you had to catch it from someone who had it.
When you give each other everything, it becomes an even trade. Each wins all.