Loosening up the grief

Some of the basics of life on this planet, I often forget. Or, I know in my head, but they still hit hard when they land squarely in the heart and gut. 

I can't prevent loss by hanging on more tightly. I also can't prevent loss by pushing it away out of fear. Attachment has no effect on what other people decide. Aversion has no effect on what other people decide. 

I don't want to lose this particular person, above all, and when the reality of that loss sinks in there's a wild, fierce cry of "please no!" that spontaneously jumps out of me. But the wresting away is more fierce, and more real, and it is what it is. 

There's also something gentle and kind in the universe, that knows we don't want to, but we are going to have to. We can't do anything about it. The very person we found who was so dear. That story has to end. 

And the best answer we can give in the face of that sorrow is "It is what it is. I don't know why. It was a gift. I'm grateful. I'll miss her more than I will ever be able to articulate. But the gift has to go."

It would be the best way to die, I imagine. Open and soft and smiling, but also crying. Grateful for all of it, accepting all of it no matter the endless grief, but opening one's hands, palms down, not up to meet another's palms but open to the end, deep breaths, letting all of it go, but not forgetting a single moment of it.