He’s not a bad man. In fact, he has one of the purer hearts I have seen. His intentions and his loves are true. His convictions are firm and just. His heart is soft underneath. I spend too much time thinking about how he is not perfect. He is my gift, given to refine me and to be refined by me. That’s why this hurts so much. I knew that before I even met him and yet how quickly I forget. I know if I were to remember I would love, not more easily, but more freely. Generously. Recklessly.