I once thought if I left this place I would shed the layers of sadness that I sometimes seem to cloak myself in. As if never laying eyes on anything that reminded me of the past would erase it from existence. What I learned was that you cannot run from what is inside of you. All of the sadness you've ever felt will always be with you.
But you can forgive yourself.
And you can forgive others.
And mourning the dead forever won't make them come back to life.
My memories are always yellowed and scratched and filmed on a handheld camera. They are melancholy but lovely. Margarette Mitchell put it perfectly when she said,
I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken -- and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.