Loss

When the sun slipped below the horizon, it was not only the day that died and the poor zebra, but my family as well.  With that second sunset, disbelief gave way to pain and grief.  They were dead; I could no longer deny it.  What a thing to acknowledge in your heart!  To lose a brother is to lose someone with whom you can share the experience of growing old, who is supposed to bring you a sister-in-law and nieces and nephews, creatures to people the tree of your live and give it new branches . . . Life of Pi

The protagonist proceeds to briefly reflect on what it means to lose a supportive father, to which I could unfortunately not relate so well (would that I could), and a mother, which is way worse in childhood than as a middle-aged adult (as I was when my mom died).  But as for this passage: I'm glad I didn't read this last weekend, when I was already so filled with missing my sister.  Still, he doesn't touch on what I miss most about her - just having someone who remembers when, with whom you shared childhood's best moments, who was with you as you survived its greatest dysfunctionality.

Yet all of these reveal a great thing to realize about grief: as much as it hurts to lose someone, even when we think we're hurting for them, we're usually really hurting for ourselves.  That's okay; I don't think it's selfish or that it makes us shallow.  (I hope?  Maybe I'm just so narcissistic that I think everyone shares this egocentricity?)  It's just good for us to bear in mind, even while we're hurting, to help keep us from descending further into it than is healthy for us.