What is loss really about?  Is it the experience of being deprived of any number of possessions or personal relationships?  Does loss spur the beast of addiction to run full speed towards destruction?  Exhaustive effort can be spent clinging to places and people, afraid of losing that semblance of security even when the reality is slowly bleeding you dry.  It makes little sense.  Inevitable and as certain as the sun is hot, loss marks a parting that sears the heart and takes ones breath away.

My neighbor died this morning. While I went about my usual morning routine, regretted what I chose to wear to work and paid homage to another Monday that wasn’t my own, my next door neighbor breathed her last breath surrounded by people she loved.

Her family grieves now in this hour as I write these words.  Their sense of loss is palpable and weighty.  It will not leave them quickly because they loved her, my neighbor whose “Hello” I will never hear again, exchanging pleasant greetings as we did now and then.

And so.  One leaves.  Others come after.  This is how it goes.  Loss.  Love.  Joy.  And the sun still rises in the morning.