These past few years have caused me to reflect on loss and what it means to lose something or someone. I was just walking Mitzvah the Dog and knowing that his time with me may be shorter than I expected, I got to thinking about what loss really means.
I've lost earrings and weight and dogs. I've lost houses and opportunities and my father and even an iPad one time. Elliott and I have lost loved ones and friends to diseases like cancer and AIDS and accidents and senseless suicide. More than once I've lost money in a casino. Blackjack was always my guilty pleasure.
And as I get older I've lost keys and my glasses and even my car in large parking lots.
But what is loss really? I always seem to find the keys and the glasses and the car. And sadly the weight.
I now believe that loss really means gone. If it's lost then it doesn't come back. A couple of years ago I lost my house in the ugly housing crash. I know where it is and can almost see its roof from the elevator lobby of the building where I live. But it's really lost. It's not coming back. We lost Dad last summer after a series of illnesses real and imagined. He's really not coming back. We lost our dog Lucky 10 years ago and will lose our dear Mitzvah sometime in the foreseeable future. They're not coming back either.
Lately I have been sad about the loss of a friendship. It was special and endearing and I though enduring. It may be chalked up in the lost column. Or maybe not.
Mitzvah is still with me and somehow I cannot let myself give up on him. Neither can I give up on my lost friendships - somehow I feel, like cars and glasses and keys - they are meant to be found. Because they are important and each in their own way special.
There must be a word between lost and found. Now I need to figure out what it is.
No comments:
Post a Comment