It's okay to love again

At sometime in your life you'll lose something. People will come up to you, avoid eye contact or force the issue of eye contact too much and just make an already uncomfortable moment that little bit worse. You'll be told that they are there for you but within three weeks you won't have heard from half of them and within 10 weeks you will only be speaking to your friends anyway. Even when you speak to your friends the prevailing attitude is "suck it up, we gave you three weeks and that's enough to get over it". People will have told you that you'll get over it and that all it takes is time. That the best tribute to their memory is to live a long and happy life and do the things that make you happy, just spare a moment for them every now and again. At first the moments all come together, you can barely spare a moment for the other parts of life. You feel the loss, but millions of years of evolution means that you go on, just to keep breathing. Just doing the motions. But the days are long and your mind will find a way of tricking you out of this grief, the millions of years of evolution just take care of it. Even if your mind can't help, there's always pills... Then it happens, one day you're going through the routine and you realise that the depth of your feelings for the new skipping rope are the same as for the old one. The handle is finally a familiar piece in your hand, it feels right. The dirt and grime have worked in and it feels like it should be there. Your calves have adapted to the slightly different length and the rhythm has returned. You can do double unders, cross overs and normal skip for ages. It's not exactly the same as the other one but it feels good and today when you looked at it you weren't just reminded of your loss. That was only in the back of my mind. All I was really thinking was "I like skipping", and I do, I'm reborn. I know people say that you can't replace a loved one and at least one other person has probably speculated the same about a skipping rope, but given time you can learn to love again. You can see that what 'ole blue rope would have wanted is for you to be happy and to sculpt those beautiful calves. I still miss her, but I can move on now. Appended to the end of the blog to preserve the tenderness. My favourite part of this blog is that a heartbroken sister of a friend of mine was reading it and really felt a connection. She saw parallels between her recently broken up relationship and the topic. She read on eagerly, then swore loudly when she found out it was about a skipping rope. Since then I have taken a job upon myself that has lots of walking and fucks with my tender ankles, long story short I don't skip anymore. Following the train of thought of the blog what does that say about love and loss?