I'm not sure how anyone else's brain works, but for me there are a few handfuls of neverending loss that haunt me. Healing and acceptance never seem to come, grieving never seems to end. The best you can do is push away the sadness with other cheerier thoughts (and that is only so effective, read: not very). It's been said that people of a depressive bent look back too often, and not enough forward, and that certainly may be adequate explanation for the general phenomena.
One of these losses, the one that prompts my writing on the topic today, is a friendship that more or less ended 15 years ago. We were friends, college roommates, then strangers once more. The disconnection still hurts. I tried quite a few times over the years to reconnect, but it never seemed to come to anything; he just never seemed much interested. I'm not sure quite what went wrong, but I blame myself. I would have done anything to keep the friendship, but I didn't know enough to know what to do or when to do it; I lack the art of easy friendship. And I know, if the past fifteen years is any guide, that I will never fully recover from the loss of his friendship and from the lack of his presence. I liked the me he teased out, I liked the synergies, and I liked him. I am sad for not knowing him longer, for not knowing who he became, and for not knowing the me I could have become through his friendship.
And so I think of him often enough, though not to any purpose (I know nothing of him now). I just can't find a way to put away the puzzle, to stop imagining that somehow we could get back to some new then; some moment where the years and miles fall away. Even if I could remember to forget, I'm never more than a few weeks away from a dream which tries to set my soul to rest, playing out some natural reunion. But, dreams are all that will ever be, because some things simply are scenes of neverending loss.