I Have A Conscience

I know what grief is. I know what loss is. I know what pride is. Pride is hiding from the grief of loss.

But I don't know what shame is. Possibly because I've already lost any sense of duty towards privacy since I lost that one, too, a long time ago?

I know what self-determination of service is. That's one of the few virtues left remaining within myself. For I have a conscience and an acquired distaste for allowing any further loss.

I won't grow if I don't allow for loss.

Yet...
Growth is of two types: growth of heart versus growth of intellect. Intellect merely analyzes and acquires facts. It is not satisfactory, but retains a constant hunger - which is never satiable - for more facts and more experiences.  I'll have to wait a thousand years before I can pick up where I've left off. For my heart pines for my son as well as the time we've lost apart. And the loss of identity for his being my son. This is irreconcilable.

And if I won't grow, then I die already before I enter the grave.

All for the sake of conscience. And duty. And service without consideration for compensation of any sort – which also ignores consequences.

Therein lies my grief.