CCCXIII: Loss (or Dear St. Anthony)

I hate losing things. Not so much the kind that means the opposite of winning, though that does mill depending on the situation or competition, but the kind that means you were either careless in your placement of or inattentive to your memory of an object. That is why I try to be really careful with my belongings. I normally make sure anything that could fall off of me (like earrings) or out from my bag (like a bus pass) never finds itself in the circumstance to do so. But hey, I've still lost earrings, like the green, star-shaped Venetian glass one while travelling from Palermo to Monreale; and I've appeared to lose my scarf tonight, somewhere and time between a shopping trip to London Drugs and my hot yoga class. And while we're on the subject, I'm also looking for my avocado hand butter from last winter...

If you're like my friend Pleuve, the first theory you'll have is that it was stolen. My method is a bit different--I start backtracking my actions and think of the last place where I saw the item in question--similar to the way I sometimes retrace subjects in a conversation. And then I try to fill in the gaps. I also call in reinforcements, which in this case is a quick mental prayer to St. Anthony. This is the extent to my gumshoeing, however, and knowing how much I forget, it's sometimes even a surprise to me that I end up finding things at all. Between Time and good ol' Tony, I usually find what I'm looking for.

The worst kind of loss, though, is one of the worst things period--the loss of a life, especially when it's someone near and dear to you. And even more when it comes unexpectedly. So far I have had it pretty easy; my grandparents passed away before my parents got married, and the loved ones I know who have passed on were people who did not have a constant presence in my life, mostly because of geography. This does not diminish the importance of their lives to others but the amount of pain I felt at their leaving. *Knocks on wood* I continue to hope that great loss does not touch my life or the lives of those I love for a long time.

But it did for someone I care for this weekend and I don't know how to console her and I can't stop thinking about it. It was not the loss of a parent or friend but the premature and accidental passing of a pet, which, as I can only imagine with my affection for Chiara, is like losing a child. How do you comfort the bereaved? How do you act like things are normal if that's all the person wants? How do people ever stop grieving?