Plain, old human stubbornness, I guess. When something we value is destroyed, we rebuild it. If it's destroyed again, we rebuild it again. And again, and again, and again - until it stays. That, as poet Tennyson once said, is the goal: "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield My Win!"
Yes, you have lost much, endured much, sacrificed greatly but you cling to the memory of your sacrifices of all the things you have lost or left behind. They drag behind you like chains of your own making. They can have a terrible power over you, the power of grief, and loss, and of regret. Yes, you can let go of the people, places and things, but you have not let go of the pain. You have not forgiven yourself for losing The Win to me.
Both too young to know anything about anything. We could only feel and wonder what it all meant. But you recall correctly. I did start it then, poor and groping for meaning. It has matured and changed over the years. I finally knew that it was ready last month. Today is the day of My Win!