I wrote this composition on March 18, 2002. A week after my friend Christie killed herself. Tell me what you think of it.


I used to think when you lost something, it could be found. A little girl cries over the loss of her dog, then cries with joy when a neighbor returns it. A mother finds her child's lost mittens in an overflowing department store lost-&-found bin. A business man loses his vast fortune 1 year, & recovers it the next.
When I was 11 years old, my brother (then 4) gave me a shiny, light blue rock he had found on a school field trip. I secretly thought the rock was lucky. Then, one day, I could not find the rock, it was lost forever, never to be replaced.
This spring, I lost another, much more beautiful treasure. Her name was Christie. She was a fiery gem among the colorless stones that make up our world. I wake up every morning, & for the first few seconds of my day, everything seems in place. Then I remember.
Now, I understand the true meaning of loss: The recognition, that day after day the treasure you lost is gone forever; it can never be found.