My eyes are always drawn to the cover graphic atop my blog. It's a photo of my Papa, who died nearly three years ago, on vacation in Costa Rica the year before his death. Papa never went anywhere without that camera of his. Previous to Papa's death, I never thought much about mourning, but in the aftermath I certainly did. Disconcertingly out of sync, perceptions jumbled, receptors misfiring, I remain immediately near but never fully within the self I’d always known, receiving on an unfamiliar, piercing wavelength.Slowly, slowly, I have come to understandthis: My pulse has been attuned to loss.-Me,…