Though they register heaviness and levity, hearts do not have scales. They fill with love which does not lighten the heart when its subject is lost. Instead, the absence leaves a chasm whose heaviness cannot be weighed. It leaves a love that fills the chest yet creates a vacuum that steals the breathe and replaces it with racking sobs of mourning. The weight of loss is for each heart immeasurable for no two hearts share the same guage.
We lost her on the full moon. Suddenly. She was there, and then she wasn’t. One morning I had her sandpaper kisses, the next a ridiculous quiet stillness that stabbed my soul. A few years ago, in the months after death upon death took one piece of me after another, she pulled me from the sadness that seemed as if it would never end. On mornings when I was disappointed to have awakened to another day, she would start with kisses and progress through a good talking to and on to literally pulling the covers off of me and half pushing, half pulling me out of bed. She was my sentry, ever vigilant against whatever harm might come my way. She was my friend, loving me with the sort of unconditional love we can only hope to experience. She was my confidante, never once sharing my secrets.
And yes, the weight of her loss is immeasurable. It’s as immeasurable as the love she gave me and the love I have for her. Rest in peace, my sweet Luna.