True. I suppose there is at least some comfort in knowing that those pieces still are written into us, but that we might set them down

[The irony, of course... the one burden he set down first, still carrying it, he would never say such a thing so lightly. The weight he'd bent himself nearly double under, the guilt - left to slip into the darkness, he couldn't even say now whether he's adjusted to it being gone.

And yet the tears still came, feeling a love so all-encompassing.]

But the time to adjust... it seems the purpose of all this.