We are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. As we were. As we are no longer. As we will one day not be at all.

Joan Didion | The Year of Magical Thinking

(via Now, You See Me)

This rings so true for me in the wake of T’s death. There is nothing like a person’s passing, especially when that passing is unexpected to make you reflect on the past. I will miss T more than I can say, but either alongside or wholly part of that is missing the way being in T’s presence, laughing and joking and chatting and being welcomed back home by him, made me feel. Reading everyone’s words in memory of him, the experiences they’ve had with him that left impressions on them, has sent me into tears no fewer than 5 times in the past week. We will never be as we were in those moments again. I am going to his funeral tomorrow where I will sob with the loss, and that will be one thing. But I already know that at Reunions, I will struggle to find the courage to walk into the kitchen, and I cannot imagine anything other than being reduced to tears by all that I won’t find there, all that is no longer.


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