Those we had loved had probably tormented us very much. 

Those we had loved, we had most probably likewise tormented.

The mark that love imprints inside us is not the words that we have exchanged, but rather the pain we have felt, the sacrifices we have made and the light that we have partaken of...

In the words of the Metropolitan of Gortyna in one of his evening sermons:

“When Christ needed to convince His disciples that it was truly He -their Lord- who had appeared before them, He did not display the triumph of His Resurrection, but instead his wounds.”

He said:  “Come and see My wounds; place your hand on the wounds of My love for you.”

What He was essentially saying to them was:  “Don’t you remember Me?  Don’t you recognize Me?  It is I, who have loved you even to the death.  Just look at the proof of My wounds.”

In the Kingdom of God, we will not be identified thanks to our successes and our achievements, but our sorrows and the torments we have suffered

Just like that poor, suffering woman undergoing dialysis who happened to show her wounds to the Elder (Saint) Paisios, and calmly saying:  "Look, Elder, at my open wound... you can clearly see my bone through it ..."  

To which the Saint replied: "I can't see any bone through your wound; what I can see however, is Paradise..."

  

Translation:   K.N.