After you lose something, take inventory of what stayed. It’s usually more than it felt like.

Loss narrows your vision to the shape of the hole. That is not a flaw in you. Your attention goes where the pain is, the missing thing becomes the only thing in the room, and the rest of your life reads as empty when it is not. What stayed does not disappear; it just stops being visible.

When you have the energy for it, and not before, try writing down what is still here: people, small routines, one thing that still works. The list is not there to cancel out what you lost. It is there because the eye needs help finding what it stopped looking at.