(There is nothing fun or funny to follow, so ... move along if that's what you're here for.) I don't mean loss in the way that people *lose*. Not a parent or a spouse or a child. I'm talking about those losses that, when you explain them to other people, they rate like a splinter. 'Oh, bummer', and then moved on from, never to be considered again.
Or worse, those losses that you don't feel justified mourning. My personal examples are just that ... the best I can think of that I'm willing to share are things like when I sent my book to a few very famous agents and none of them were interested. Overall: pipe dream, best I can expect as far as sympathy was a nod and a smile. Still, internally, I mourned. I love my book like a baby, and I thought it was meant to be. And it was, but under different circumstances, and that makes sense to everyone who hears this story. But to me, it felt like it was meant to be with who I had in mind and everything else was just treading water.
Or worse, when my Clo died. Cloey was a terrier but also my best friend and the companion who grew up with me, from college graduation through breakups and apartments and a house that belonged to just me and her. People understand when your dog dies, but most of them in an 'oh bummer' way. I railed and cried and missed her like a person, but ... 'oh, bummer'.
The thing is, everyone tells you that kind of thing feels better later. Wait it out, etc, etc. My losses of men from my younger years (the kind of thing that hit hardest when I was a baby person)? YES. I can't tell you how glad I am that I'm not the girl who was with Andrew in college, when he realized he'd always been in love with Andre. Or how glad I am that I'm not married to Monte, who now has beautiful twins and a lovely wife.
Of course, in retrospect, Monte did make out with the girl who is now the woman he's married to while we were in the process of permanently combining our lives. And Andrew ... I don't know, man. I want to pretend my gaydar was good, but it wasn't. He was cute and I dodged a bullet, that's where that lies.
My book, though? If I'd been tough and tried harder, more times, maybe I would have gotten what I wanted. If I'd been braver and strong enough to let Cloey go through chemo at the animal hospital up at CSU, maybe I would have had her for longer. (I checked the archives and this post is the closest I got to writing about how hard it was when Clo died, but suffice to say my choices there are some of my biggest what-ifs.) There are losses that are just that - losses. They are things that make your life less for the lack of them. I have them and know I'll have more, but it doesn't make them hurt any less.
I miss the things that I think should have happened, the things that belong in my life but aren't there.
(In other news, sometimes I'm a fucking drama queen.)