There are things that are done in life that you can't comprehend when they're done. Things that seem frivolous, whimsical, maybe even rash. And then time shows you the truth of the moment, the seamless almost pre-ordained rightness of the choice.
Sometimes it takes a death to prove it, to render final judgement, and bring clarity; white-hot, soul-searing, clarity. It takes this moment to know that a right choice was made.
I have myself given up. Given up on giving into the surprise. I've been armored against this particular surprise.
It does not mean I do not cry. It just means that my tears are less salty and free flowing and my time spent in the moment of mortal friendship more intense and nurturing.
With each one of these passings I learn anew the lesson of life's fleeting flame and how quickly, how whimsically, it can be blown out, how capricious that ill wind can be.
I draw sweeter breaths, live more vibrant moments, try to impart more of me on those I love. In the end that is what they, those who have gone away, would want.
I owe them that.