So thats how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal theloss no matter how important the thing thats stolen from us - thatssnatched right out of our hands - even if we are left completelychanged with only the outer layer of skin from before we continue toplay out our lives this way in silence. We draw ever nearer to theend of our allotted span of time bidding it farewell as it trails offbehind. Repeating often adroitly the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of insurmountable emptiness...Maybe in some distant place everything is already quietly lost.Or at least there exists a silent place where everything candisappear melting together in a single overlapping figure. And aswe live our lives we discover - drawing toward us the thin threadsattached to each - what has been lost. I closed my eyes and tried tobring to mind as many beautiful lost things as I could. Drawing themcloser holding on to them. Knowing all the while that their livesare fleeting.

Its not that we have to quit this life one day its how many things we have to quit all at once holding hands hotel rooms music the physics of falling leaves vanilla and jasmine poppies smiling anthills the color of the sky coffee and cashmere literature sparks and subway trains... If only one could leave this life slowly

So I learned two things that night and the next day from him the perfection of a moment and the fleeting nature of it.

He came up and kissed me on my forehead and before he stepped away I closed my eyes and tried hard to memorize this moment. I wanted to remember him exactly as he was right then how his arms looked brown against his white shirt the way his hair was cut a little too short in the front. Even the bruise there because of me.Then he was gone.Just for that moment the thought that I might never see him again it felt worse than death. I wanted torun after him. Tell him anything everything. Just dont go. Please just never go. Please just always be near me so I can at least see you.Because it felt final. I always believed that we would find our way back to each other every time. That no matter what we would be connectedby our history by this house. But this time this last time it felt final. Like I would never see him again or that when I did it would be different there would be a mountain between us.I knew it in my bones. That this time was it. I had finally made my choice and so had he. He let me go. I was relieved which I expected. What I didnt expect was to feel so much grief.Bye bye Birdie.

Why is the measure of love loss

Depression is the flaw in love. To be creatures who love we must be creatures who can despair at what we lose and depression is the mechanism of that despair.

If you didnt remember something happening was it because it never had happened Or because you wished it hadnt

That was the only time as I stood there looking at that strange rubbish feeling the wind coming across those empty fields that I started to imagine just a little fantasy thing because this was Norfolk after all and it was only a couple of weeks since Id lost him. I was thinking about the rubbish the flapping plastic in the branches the shore-line of odd stuff caught along the fencing and I half-closed my eyes and imagined this was the spot where everything Id ever lost since my childhood had washed up and I was now standing here in front of it and if I waited long enough a tiny figure would appear on the horizon across the field and gradually get larger until Id see it was Tommy and hed wave maybe even call. The fantasy never got beyond that --I didnt let it-- and though the tears rolled down my face I wasnt sobbing or out of control. I just waited a bit then turned back to the car to drive off to wherever it was I was supposed to be.

Remembering. Forgetting. Im not sure which is worse.

Its the same with people who say Whatever doesnt kill you makes you stronger. Even people who say this must realize that the exact opposite is true. What doesnt kill you maims you cripples you leaves you weak makes you whiny and full of yourself at the same time. The more pain the more pompous you get. Whatever doesnt kill you makes you incredibly annoying.