On Losing Someone You Love

I lost my father. I will probably lose my mother soon. The last words I said to my father were said in anger and frustration. He killed himself. He killed himself and I wasn’t there. No one was there. I wrote him a letter telling him I loved him. That I understood him. I was going to read it to him. But then he wasn’t there. I cried. I cried so hard. And there it was. I lost someone I love.

A lot of things in life have a different meaning when that happens. Songs you’ve listened to. Movies you’ve watched. Poems you’ve read. And suddenly you see new things in them. New ideas. New pain. New insights. And new songs, movies, poems, and many other things; they say more because you listen closer. You yearn for that feeling; the feeling of understanding. But they never really understand the pain. And you’re left empty again. Een those that have lost. They don’t truly understand they haven’t lost what you’ve lost.

So what’s to be done? Nothing. Time is the greatest healer of suffering. But time is time. It’s slow by nature. Thus you must use the most powerful tool at your disposal: your mind. For your mind is the only thing you can truly control. So you tell it: accept the reality that you’ve been presented with and move along. Like a watchful observer, take in the pain given and walk towards the next sight. For you are a traveler in this life. A nomad and the road you walk upon is one of time, not earth. Rest easy knowing that what has happened is done and always was. you were always going to lose them. And accept this sad fact: time is both the healer and the abuser. Mourn the ones you’ve lost. Love the ones you will lose. And then move along.