Hi Reader,

I subscribe to a lot of email lists. Every once in awhile, I'll get a note letting me (and the thousands of other subscribers) know why I haven't heard from her. I almost certainly have never noticed. I'm not usually waiting for that email like last night's date's call (a different lifetime entirely...).

But here I am, returning to my regular email writing after some time off. And likely, you didn't notice either.

So, why am I telling you? Well, it's been quite a few weeks and I've felt loss, scattered, despair, and extreme joy. And somewhere in all this, there's a message. I'm still struggling to find it. So, I'll write and hope I gain a little clarity, maybe a little healing.

Either way, writing these emails has always been about working through things, so here I go.

Early last month, my cousin lost her 26-year-old baby. Never in my life have I wanted so desperately to carry a piece of someone else's pain so badly. It is not the natural order of life, and I am struggling to make sense of it, knowing that I never will. I know that some of you reading this have lost a child or been there for someone else as they had. I had not.

At the service, his entire high school football team turned up in matching t-shirts and personalized hats. His friends turned the burial into a party, with speakers up, playing music he made. They danced, laughed, smoked, and drank for their brother.

I have never felt so much unequivocal sadness and witnessed so much joy in celebrating a life well lived, certainly not in one day.

That same day, I saw my newest nephew crawl.

When you think about babies, you think about crawling. And before you have kids, you think they crawl forever. Once you have them, you realize its so fleeting.

I've always disliked it when older parents say things like, "enjoy it. It won't last forever," as if I didn't know that. As if I wasn't trying hopelessly to enjoy it all while struggling desperately to survive with 3 - 4 wakeups a night. But I couldn't help it. I told him to soak it in and try as hard as he could to enjoy it. I also told him I have always hated that advice but I couldn't help myself.

Anyway, in all of this, I know I will never be able make sense of any of it. I know I can't do a damn thing to ease my cousin's pain. I know my nephew will be walking soon (maybe by the next time I see him, but I hope not). I know my brother and his girlfriend will enjoy some of it while also being grateful that certain phases are over.

All I really know is that life is short. It is filled with so many beautiful, ephemeral moments.

But it is also really long. By definition, the longest thing any one of us will do. And in between all of these fleeting phases, we're surviving, enduring long nights, heartbreak, boredom, the toddler years... we're also building these big beautiful lives, watching these little ones turn into people we never could have imagined, growing closer and losing touch, and feeling our hearts break, heal, swell, and crack wide open as it happens.

So, I guess... Give them all the love you've got.

Yours, working it all out. One day at a time,