Every letting go is practice for the moment when I must let go of life. Death is part of my future as sure as the sun will set this evening and plunge today into darkness.
It is a paradox that loving prepares me for my ultimate letting go in death. Loving anyone means respecting their basic impermanence. At first glance it would seem that loving is a kind of embracing, clinging. It has become clear to me that love of someone also means letting go, not expecting them to be within the circle of my existence. It means allowing them to be totally in their own orbit, independent of mine.
It is sheer delight when the orbits are adjacent or even matching. But I can make no attempt to shape their reality into mine, as attractive as that might seem.
Being wholly present while at the same time fully letting go is preparation for the larger letting go yet to come. Then I will be drawn to let go of the life I think I have come to know so well.
I forgot to mention that letting go, even when accepted, can be painful.