Loss

What have you lost?

I’ve told this tale many a time. It’s integral to my story. You know. The writing story. The one I tell when people ask me when did I start writing, when did I realize I wanted to be a writer, was there a moment where it all clicked?  You’ve probably heard it.

What have you lost?

That was the MEAP exam prompt. Fifth grade. My best friend Jessie wrote about her roller skates. I wrote about my grandma’s death. I was certain I answered wrong. But I didn’t. I wrote my truth then, just as I write my truth now. The truth is never wrong…even if it hurts.

It’s been over 20 years since that MEAP exam and the careful cursive writing and my mom crying after reading my words and saving the printed copy that the principal gave us. It sits in my scrapbook. Mom made the book for my graduation party.

Over 20 years. I was a little girl in fifth grade then. I’m a grown woman now. I still like lab puppies and still have the same shoulder-length haircut and still adore my grandma even though she’s been gone longer than I’ve known her.

What have you lost?

The answer has changed. But it doesn’t erase the wound of woe when Grandma died. I guess that’s the thing about losing. We collect our losses like baseball cards or tarnished coins. Loss is loss is loss is loss. Unable to be erased.

We keep the losses tucked underneath our collars. Right near the neck. Pulsing alongside the jugular, where it reminds us that the losing—whether it’s a person, a place, a job, a game, a dream—can feel as deep and deadly as a cut to the throat.

What have you lost?

I’ve learned that loss has many looks.
An empty closet with unused hangers.
Stray guitar picks on the garage floor.
Blue cereal boxes filled with some off-brand Chex squares.
Tennis shoes in the closet with clumps of grass on the bottom.
A box full of Christmas ornaments that I’m not going to hang up on the tree this year because I picked them out with you and you’re not here anymore.

Loss lingers like a forgotten puppy. You’re going about your day like normal and wham! It slams you in the head like a right-handed hook.

It’s the rap song on the radio that you listened to in the passenger seat with your fuzzy hood up because it was cold but you also wanted to look cool.
It’s my hands reaching behind my back to pull up my own zipper because Daisy has paws instead of thumbs so she can’t help me get this damn dress on.
A clear umbrella. Purple nail polish. Empty desks. Saved voicemails. Unsent manuscripts. A deflated volleyball that sits on a shelf.

What have you lost?

I get that this blog isn’t warm and fuzzy. But I’m not writing this blog to bring anyone down. I am writing to be honest. I am writing to interrupt the scrolling of successes and smiles on social media to be raw and real and say that hey, things hurt sometimes. Things aren’t perfect sometimes. Not for me. Not for you. Not for any of us.

The truth? We all lose. We do. It’s inevitable. We lose people. Babies. Plans. Jobs. Businesses. Love.

Some losses are as careless and uneventful as losing an eyelash. Others feel like your heart has been replaced with an empty hole.

What have you lost?

We lose beyond the loss…but that’s a good thing. Like dropping unwanted baggage or shedding snakeskin or unfurling from the cocoon, loss leads to growth. We lose barriers. We lose disappointments. We lose the way things were done because hey, they needed to be done differently. We lose an old perspective to make room for the new vision.

And that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? We LOSE and YET….we get back up. We set the alarm. We drive to work. We practice the shot. We catch the bouquet.

We write a blog.

We feel. We move forward. We press on. We try, try, try again. We let life happen because life doesn’t just hand us sour lemons. It gives us silver linings. Best friends. Baby snuggles. Good food. Long phone talks. Fuzzy socks. Heinz ketchup. Sea otters.
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And thank God for it all.