Some people, they don't want to be that loved, they don't want to be that involved, they don't want to be part of your family. That's where the pain comes in. You want the world to be what you want it to be, and sometimes the world doesn't want that.
I guess even the prettiest things eventually end up stinking. Everything does. We all will die and rot and decay and be reborn as dirt or flowers or worms, or polar bears who will drown because their ice is all melting, or presidents of war-torn countries, or whales swimming around acidifying seas. And then we will rot and decay again. And so it goes.