“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
- Winnie the Pooh
It seems like being able to reasonably navigate life is the ability to somehow manage loss. Because, let's face it, that's what much of life boils down to, losing things.
We start early in childhood and then it's a big ol' string of losses. We lose our toys, our teeth, our innocence, we lose games, our direction, we lose our keys, our hair, our perspective, our bearings, our jobs, we lose money, our cool, our minds, we lose our place, our knack, we lose out…but we keep on going and learn to roll with it, and hopefully, don't lose our sense of humor.
But, of course, the most dreadful thing we lose are the people (and pets) that we love. With other things that we lose, there are often ways to prevent it. But with love, that loss and the pain that goes with it, is a guarantee. Unless we completely wall ourselves off emotionally, it's absolutely guaranteed. Damn.
I was reminded of this again Monday when our dear friend said, at the impending loss of their beloved dog, “It's the price we pay for love.” It's a hefty price tag, isn't it?.
I'm reminded, too, that the older we get, the more frequent the loss of loved ones become. I try as best as I can, to appreciate the pain that comes with the losses as a signal that I'm indeed alive and that I recognize that I have been loved well, and, hopefully, that I have loved well in return.
I'm in a reflective mood. It's Ash Wednesday. What can I tell ya?
I close by doing the only natural thing, playin' some music.