in the end, we'll pile up the bones of the ones we lost. we arrange them just so, sprinkle a flower or two, and push the raft out to sea. it isn't as painful as it could be -or maybe even should be- because these are the ones who chose to go. they turned their backs, became the wolves who had forever circled our camp, and left us all with no choice but to watch the implosion. of course as they float off nice words will still be said, and genuine tears shed, but it's only for the memory of what had been. lilting dreams of what could have been are already gone, and the memories once held so dear… they will begin to dissipate in the sunlight along with the early morning fog hugging the water. that's what brings the tears. the memories lost. but c'est la vie.