Loss is a constant part of life.  We lose car keys, cell phones, favorite sweaters and friends, sometimes those we dearly love.  We lose bits of health or abilities, and eventually, we lose life itself.  We take precautions and buy insurance to avoid losing things that are really important to us.  And like everyone else, we still “suffer” our losses.

These are the First and Second Noble Truths:  suffering is part of our lives because, while life constantly changes, we stay attached to things emotionally.   Well, of course we do.  Losing a friend is a much bigger deal than losing keys, but even misplaced keys can ruin a day.  If we didn’t care about missing appointments or having a friend exit our lives, we wouldn’t suffer.  But who doesn’t care?  Certainly we all suffer when a loved one dies.

Many people with Buddhist meditation practices get confused and blame themselves for being distressed when they lose what’s dear to them.  Buddha was moved to share his teachings with others not out of blame but out of compassion.  That’s how we, too, should approach our suffering when we’ve experienced loss.  Rather than cursing ourselves for holding on to a moving rope and thus getting rope burn, we should gently try – out of compassion for ourselves – to let go. 

Letting go will take time, usually in proportion to how dear what we’ve lost has been to us.  It’s said that grief is the process of letting go.  This process can have its own game plan, but a meditation practice can help make it gentler, if not faster.  We can use mindfulness to notice when we dwell on thoughts that feed our suffering, and to make a wise effort to turn our attention instead toward the business of healing.  This is like the saying, “Get out of the problem and into the solution.”  With no disrespect to the magnitude of a loss, we can lessen how miserable it makes us.  In the case of grief, this may come when we can re-engage with the details of daily life.

We always know that we are going to lose things we love, but we seldom face this squarely until the loss seems imminent, and then a sense of surprise magnifies our fear and sorrow.  I don’t say this as a criticism; it’s a part of human nature that inspires compassion and is a bit endearing, actually.  From that point on, though, we’re in a world of hurt until we’re able to go on living despite the loss.  In my experience, it’s a lot like recovering from a serious illness.   There are things we should do to help ourselves heal, and it often just takes time.  That’s the art of this practice, to have both patience and perseverance in living through the multitude of losses that are inevitable parts of life.