On Sunday, one of my best friends moved 250 miles away.
Now, I have lost a lot of people in my short life, on top of my countless moves growing up (I estimate between 17-20) I have had an uncle, a cousin, and my mother die. I am no stranger to losing people, yet I feel that it never gets easier, especially whenever the person had been a bit more than a friend for a solid chunk of time. Now, I find myself, once again, depressed over the loss of somebody I care about, the distance isn't insurmountable, but I used to look forward to our weekend visits as a means to relieve stress. On occasion I find myself thinking "well, at least I'll get to hang out with [anon] this weekend" then I bluntly remember, no, they have moved away.
Of course, moments like these aren't all loss. I am grateful for the time we had together and the things I learned about myself. It was not time wasted and despite the feelings I have now due to the attachment I had, I don't regret any of it. People come, and they go, and all we can do is be grateful for their presence in our lives and learn from them.
Of course I am feeling. . .more than a bit rough, but it reinforces the lesson, the Gods don't abandon you whenever you are down, and without the Gods I don't have a clue how I would be right now.