In the midst of a loss, it’s very easy to see what’s being taken and difficult to see what’s being given.

In my life, I understood that every family will experience loss, but I thought surely my family would not experience an inordinate amount. I believed the fantasy formula stating that if we didn’t harm people and did our best to support others, we would likely be immune to significant loss. I also enjoyed the illusion that maybe, just maybe, my love could make a relationship permanent—I mean, just this one lifetime.

Well, I have three daughters. One died two days after her birth. Another was born with a serious neurological disability impairing both fine and gross motor skills. It took time for me to see Sarah beyond the shroud of ableism. The voice of “She and I deserve more” is almost completely silent now. Sarah recently turned 51, and I am asked to be with the courage, simplicity, and love she brings. My third daughter has been estranged from the family for over 25 years. My daughters continue to teach me about loss. One no longer on the planet, another somewhere distant from home, and one showing me how to gently embrace uniqueness.

The loss of anyone or anything we cherish is painful. Loss often means we end as someone’s parent, sibling, or spouse. We create a life, a meaningful life, with someone we love. This person now only lives in our memory. We can’t touch them, hold them, or see them in the countless ways they touched us. Our sorrow deepens as we let go of........

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