As we advance in years, we find time has made some people superfluous to us or has made us unnecessary to other people. To us, as to them, we become the living dead. There is a particular frustration to grieving a living breathing loss. They are present but forever absent. It is a state that is not so final but just as hopeless.
In the past, we took for granted these souls' destiny to accompany us through life, but then gradually or somehow without warning, they’re lost forever. Their memory becomes an abstract figment of dreams.
The living dead. They are friends, family, lovers; physically, they still exist but are always separated by the unbridgeable and yawning gape of time.
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