Beneath the brittle surface, the vain, self-interested, clinging love, the maddening longing, which only obscures what lies below, there is a silently flowing river: A river of compassion, bowels of mercy, a feeling of the other's pain, flowing into a vast, vast ocean of sadness. Although it is a sadness, one enters it willingly, with 'joy, for there is such tenderness in its pain. And at last, in this sadness, there is perfect freedom. This is the love that never dies: a proof of immortality. This is the pain that the crucified One embraced willingly, sharing our pain. This is the Cross that He asks us to bear. This is the death that He asks us to die. And at last, in this death, there is perfect peace.