Found this at Daily Life in a Homeless Mission. It strikes a chord with me today. It is somehow comforting to know that I am not alone in thoughts like this.

Despite the wavering and often bitter circumstances of life, despite the high, fast water under the bridge in spring or the dry clods of earth on the fields in late autumn, despite the choices we've embraced and those that were thrust upon us, love remains. And if we carry that burden - for sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, lovers and friends - how much more so must Christ carry that same burden for us, for whom he died, and to whom we nod in passing. Christ stood on the hills overlooking the city and wept for Jerusalem, wept for the love lost, wept for the city's rejection of himself, wept for every one of us who have, like Dylan's un-named lover, met him again and again in the times and places and seasons of our lives, and then went on, once again, in that life, as if those places where the veil between us was a thin gauze of cool air didn't exist, as if such times when his presence was as real as anything we've ever known had not happened. as if all those falsehoods that are the world had suddenly acquired the dignity of truth.

Although we may not be able articulate the state of our heart we find ourselves a quiet and gently unsettling discontent as we abide in the longing for him, instead of in him, knowing that - truly - when you love someone, you love them forever.