We are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. As we were. As we are no longer. As we will one day not be at all.
-- Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking
It's hard to sit here at work when my best friend is in pain and grieving hundreds of miles away. It's all I can do for now. Feeling helpless. But I sit here and mentally send my love. I can see it whirring through the winds now, reaching for her and her family. It's all I can do for now.
