As we walk our individual life journeys, we pick up resentments and hurts, which attach themselves to our souls like burrs clinging to a hiker's socks. These stowaways may seem insignificant at first, but, over time, if we do not occasionally stop and shake them free, the accumulation becomes a burden to our souls.
It's our memories that make us who we are. Without them, we're nothing. If that means we have to hurt sometimes, it's worth it.
There's no hurt so great that love can't heal it.