on losing things slowly

Not all at once. That would be easier, maybe — one clear moment, one clear loss. But the slow kind: the friendship that gets quieter by degrees. The habit that fades before you notice. The version of yourself that was braver or more careless or more willing, gone so gradually you don't know exactly when. I've gotten better at noticing it. Still not good. The trick, I think, is to hold things lightly enough that when they start to go, you can feel the going. Not to grip harder, not to pretend the loosening isn't happening. Just to notice. The things worth keeping do tend to stay. The rest was always passing through.