Processing Losses

I frantically looked for my glue stick as I needed to stick two papers together and make it thicker. It would be a note that shall accompany a gift I got for my friend to be exchanged during our year-end meetup. It is not for Christmas, but the Christmas season definitely inspired her suggestion. As for me, it is the opportunity to express my appreciation and celebrate this friendship. 



After a while looking for it, I decided to reach out for the box of spare stationery I have. I felt unsatisfied. I can't quite pinpoint the particular cause of dissatisfaction. Just that these things crossed my mind: 

• “Aaaaa there's still a lot of glue in the tube! What a waste!!!!",
• “WHERE COULD IT BE?? Did Bella (my dextrous cat) play with it and push it off the table with her fluffy paw?", and 
• scenes during my uni days where this tube of glue stick sits nicely in my stationery drawer, and how it has a spot in my stationery box on my current work table. 

Indeed, I think a lot about the things that are not seen.



While I think about my missing glue stick tube, my brain led me to think about things I have lost this year. They are:

1. my house key - last seen in my bag when I came home from my COVID quarantine, 
2. my doughnut-shaped Scotch tape dispenser - that I got when I was in a secondary school,
3. a thumbdrive which is a souvenir from Transilvania University, Romania,
4. a relationship, and
5. friendships -- three friendships actually which one of them ghosted me, the other sent me a breakup text that received an undeserving reply from me (in hindsight), and another called me 'uncool and easily insulted'. 



Having these in mind, I could not help wondering, "What are the things lost when we lose something?", "What about the things we miss when we misplace something?", "Does it work with replacing something with someone?" 



As I contemplated those questions, I decided that loss is when experiences are turned into mere memories. And what we actually lose is the opportunity for experiences with things and someone. For example, after making a new set of keys, the experience is different with this newness. A key chain was attached to my old set of keys. This keychain contains a small piece of ribbon from a leadership workshop that I attended. As I was thinking and writing this, I only remembered why the ribbon was significant. The ribbon in the keychain is a result of a group activity. We tied the ribbon around us, made a promise to ourselves, and cut it to bring pieces of it back home. What bothers me is that the more I think about it, I can't remember the promise I made. In fact, I had begun to assume the content of the promise. I did wonder whether I would remember the promise as it was if I would still have that keychain. But one thing is for sure, without this keychain, I have lost the opportunity to experience remembering the promise. 



Applying these questions to relationships, I realised why losing is painful. It is the most painful thing: losing the opportunity to experience. My experiences in sharing presence, space, and touch with the person I called friend and boyfriend have ended. In the present and the future, I no longer can have these experiences with a sense of familiarity. Yes, I can make friends. It is also not very hard for me to make friends, especially after realising the risk of being exploited and being an exploiter myself. But all those experiences will be different. There is no more comfort in being with the same person. 



Loss is a universal sense. But your experiences are limited to your past, your present self only has your memories, and your future self may only have vague memories. When we miss people and things, we can reminisce. This is still a reason to embrace loss. While limitation is often a constrain, I hope that I live not in fear, but instead, I will be wise enough to know when to seize the opportune moment of experiencing. I wish the same for all.