It doesn’t mean you have to carry it.”

I knew she was right.

I could care about Liam’s welfare without becoming responsible for Kenneth’s decisions or Brenda’s actions.

I could wish Gertrude a safe place to live without continuing to serve as her caregiver.

I could love parts of the man I had married without remaining his wife.

These distinctions were harder than anger.

Anger drew sharp lines.

Grief wanted to blur them.