@Draconess25 when people say “they’re in a better place”, I don’t think they have a clue in the world. I know they mean well, but I tune them out… rather than shout at them to shut the hell up if they don’t know what they’re talking about.
Now that we’re all talking about love and loss, I’m recalling a man who was introduced to me for the first time when I was in my teens. And because they thought I’d be freaked out by it, my parents told me before we met to not comment on the port-wine birthmark that covered most of one side of his face, and that he walked with a cane and a limp. (He was pretty old then.) He was my great-uncle, brother to my grandmother. I never did hear what the story was and why we hadn’t met him earlier, or even known of his existence. It wasn’t like he had been in prison or a mental institution; he was just “away”, but no one mentioned him to us kids.
He was a wonderful old guy. Five minutes after meeting him you’d forget all about the birthmark and anything else that was “different” about him. To this day I know almost nothing about his life. But I remember how he made me feel, and the conversations we had. He died nearly 40 years ago, too soon after I met him, and I still recall him with great fondness. Love? I suppose, though we only met a few times.
I can still hear his peculiar cackling (and infectious!) laugh when he pointed out something funny, made a joke… or appreciated one of mine. “That’s a good one, Colonel!” he’d slap his knee and tell me. I can hear him now.
Since then, of course, I’ve lost a lot of people in my life. It’s good to be reminded, even if it makes me miss them all over again.