I have not read Haruki Murakami, but some quotes by him often come to my mind. Whenever the losses in my life haunt me, I often return to those quotes. “Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it,” I remind myself whenever memories of my father’s death pierce like a dart from the darkness. I try to find comfort in Murakami’s words: “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional. We all have to endure some amount of pain in our lives, but how we react to that pain is what defines us.”

I know I am not the only one who is often thrown into the ocean of pain and loneliness. So, again I go back to the author whom I have not read and tell myself, “Loss can shape us, change us, and in the end, lead us to a deeper understanding of ourselves and the world around us.”

Yes, loss takes many forms, each leaving us to navigate the unsettling void it creates. Whether it is the finality of death or the unraveling of a cherished relationship, these losses linger, intertwining with our everyday lives. We may strive to return to normalcy, masking our inner turmoil, but beneath the surface, grief and longing seep into our very being. The ember of pain that we pretend is no longer there still exists. We often tell lies to ourselves. As V.S. Naipaul aptly wrote, “The only lies for which we are truly punished are those we tell ourselves.”

The death of a loved one can feel as if time itself has come to a standstill. Outside, the world continues its relentless march, yet we remain anchored in that pivotal moment when everything changed. The passing of a father, for instance, evokes an enduring ache – a profound awareness that something irreplaceable has vanished from our lives. His memory lingers like a shadow, quiet yet ever-present. That day, the air felt unnaturally still, as though the universe had paused in reverence. It felt as if his hand slipped from mine – a weightless, irreversible action – followed by a silent cry that erupted from deep within. His absence created a void that nothing could fill: a hollow echo of laughter that will never return and the sound of his voice fading into a whisper that now exists only in memory.

As, writer Joan Didion captured this sentiment beautifully “Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it.” In this uncharted territory, memories become bittersweet reminders of what once was, oscillating between vivid clarity and painful distance.

In contrast, the end of a relationship often unfolds quietly, lacking the dramatic closure that death brings. As the days pass, the bond that once connected two people begins to fray. It is in the silences – the once-easy conversations that now feel rare – that we notice the shift. After a separation, we sift through the fragments of our shared history, grappling with what remains and what has been lost. The dissolution of a marriage typically resembles a slow drift rather than an abrupt ending. Two people who once shared dreams and laughter find themselves at an emotional distance, feeling like strangers. While we may have outgrown the life we built together, the memories still resonate, and we learn to carry the weight of our experiences, however burdensome.

Loss, whether through death or separation, inevitably becomes part of our identity. In this journey, we experience the pain of longing for what was; the memories we cherish and the lessons learned transform us over time. I remember reading somewhere that love takes off the masks we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within. Through the rawness of our grief, we discover a deeper understanding of love itself.

In the face of profound loss, we cling to memories not just to revisit our sorrow but to honour those we have lost. The journey through loss is both personal and universal; we often grapple with feelings that others may not fully understand. Yet, we come to realize that loss is not merely an end but a new beginning – a chance to redefine ourselves and what we cherish.

Though the pain may never fully dissipate, we learn to carry it differently, allowing it to shape us without overwhelming us. Each day stands as a testament to our resilience, and every memory – whether of a father’s warmth or a dear one’s embrace – continues to influence who we are. While we cannot avoid loss, we can find the strength to move forward, embracing both the beauty and the terror that life brings. As Rainer Maria Rilke poignantly expressed, “Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final.”

About the Author : Reena Rahman is a writer and aviation expert.