foozlepaper&type

It's that time again, where I am forced to contemplate loss and what it means. This week there have been two, one that won't be healed and one that can't be. There is no unfixable situation short of death they say, but I would posit that death is sometimes the less painful end to a friendship. Still I can rejoice that a lost friend is alive and well and finding experiences that will be healing for them even if I am no longer something that someone finds healing. Death, though. I am at an age where I lose friends and loved ones now, not eighteen anymore to think myself and those I love invincible. And I find that I cannot mourn death, not in the way I mourn lost opportunity in life. I don't know what there is after this, I hold no particular religious belief to tell me. But I know that this world in all its complexities could not exist were this all, were this even the beginning. This life must be a stopping point, a waypoint at best, else I cannot see the point in the mysteries of the universe. I write too many eulogies, and all of them hollow, because if I have loved someone then there is nothing left to say when they're gone. I rejoice in the life that I have, and the people I am given. I recognize that I am difficult to love, and that it is difficult for me to love in turn. But when I do, it transcends things like breathing. Death is no end to my love, nor to the love I bear another person. There is loss, and then there is loss, and I will grieve the dead but mourn the living, and that is I think what it means to learn about life.