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“What’s Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, that he should weep for her? What would he do. Had the the motive and the cue for passion that I have? He would drown the stage with tears…” – William Shakespeare

She wept in words for days and years to the chorus of cries saying, “That’s enough.” “Why do you do this to yourself. Get over it.”

Her family, the ones left living spoke no words at all. She could only see their backs as they cheered on the next ignorant fashion trend and pretended to be all of the things they absolutely were not. Five dollar versions of million dollar souls, they mocked, chided, dropped blades into her back…denying any of it was ever or had ever happened.

No, for Hecuba, she was the problem. Her grief was the issue. Not the impetus the reaction. For all of her loss Hecuba’s greatest tragedy in life was this fixation on reaction by the people around her. It denied truth. It removed the truth and replaced it with a plastic version of candy coated drugged out highs. Because they couldn’t feel. They wouldn’t feel.

Hecuba? She couldn’t stop feeling. She wouldn’t. Because the love was so great. It was so great that it dwarfed the pain. But, they couldn’t see that. They could only see her tears. She bled words so much that her blood became them and she was freed in the letting.

Still, they could only see her grief. And the losses were real. And she would never deny the losses. They were merely the final page in a lifetime of love. She loved fiercely. And wildly. And without restraint. And this is why the losses devastated her. She loved loving.

And, even still.

She loved.

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