The young man who helped me carry my things out of work last week, in passing, while we were on a completely different topic, mentioned that he'd never lost a loved one to death, that he had no idea how that would feel, that he couldn't put his head around what that would be like.
And it occurred to me, just then, with him juggling to fit my cardboard boxes on top of six changes of clothes for Jenna, five stuffed animals, and a couple of old happy meal boxes, that I've never not known what that feels like. As long as I can remember, that's been my default. We have two completely opposite defaults when it comes to loss.
Lots of cool realizations like this come to you while you're carrying your shit to your car after they tell you to go.
Thank God!
