I hate missing people.
I’ve probably said that before.
But missing people creates an ache that has the power to undo me, at least for a moment. Because really missing someone is to have a piece of you that’s missing. That’s what it feels like to me at least. Like there’s a spot inside if you that literally is empty because you are not with that person (and most everyone who reads this is thinking of a person right now).
I’m not sure there is much more to say on the subject. When I miss people, I just ache. That’s all there is to it. I want them near me.
Yesterday, I found two people I had been missing working on some event they were planning. As I said hello to them, one of them asked if I’d like to join them. They were working and probably wouldn’t be much fun, they said, but I was more than welcome to sit with them.
Yes. I would love to. I’ll be quiet. I will not distract you. But yes, I would absolutely love to sit with you and hear you as you speak back and forth and smile at the way you laugh and the way you interact and the way you get distracted. Yes, without a doubt, I would love to join you an just be with you. Yes. Please. Yes.
I will miss so many soon.
And I will not be able to just run into them.
There. It’s hit me finally.
And now I begin to grieve my soon to be broken heart.