I like to think that a person's capacity to love can expand enough to continue including new things to love, and we still might love the things we no longer have.

Overly optimistic

Franz was delusional.
We lose a lot of shit that hurts as we travel through life.
We get none of it back.
Dead relatives, broken marriages, abandonment by lovers, children growing up and going to live their own lives, dead pets, lost fortunes.
The hardest lesson to learn is that absolutely nothing means anything in the end.
Especially if you're nursing a broken heart. It took me years to get over many things, and some I still haven't gotten over, but I know the way. It's just not easy to write off family, but sometimes it has to be done.
Kafka was an incurable romantic and far to optimistic for the "real" world.