Things that you miss in time
When I think of people who have left my life there are certain things, I miss desperately about them. These are the friends who have grown apart, the loves that have lapsed and those who are gone forever. In moments of joy or sorrow I find myself thinking “wouldn’t it be great to…” call my mother and hear her say you’re going all the right things, to celebrate with that over-the-top friend who knows the little wins are just as important in the day on day, or to simply visit a grandparent and sit in an ungodly hot living room in simple silence.
I find myself reflecting on these things more as I approach my birthday and another year of figuring out who I was and who I am now comes to an end. For me, I thought that I would miss their physical presence the most, the sound of their voices, their smells or sounds of them in a home. But it turns out that in the still of a day, a routine Sunday morning, I simply miss them and the time we had together. I miss the comfort of knowing someone will always pick up the phone when I call, that someone knows me so completely that they can see through the happiness, sadness, frustration on my face, or hear a new idea and excitement in my voice, can just be with those who could let certain things go unsaid.
Sometimes it’s me I miss. That version of me that they helped build up with support, love, and care.
You know, time is a funny thing, but it isn’t magic. There’s no length of time that I’ll hit and find that my heart has healed, and I no longer miss these people or that I could even miss them less. The only gift time will give me is a different form of grief as it marches on. It won’t be able to recreate the relationships or special moments that I think of as I do the dishes, or complete another home project, or reach for my phone and almost dial before I realize the ones I want to answer aren’t there.
I have written about time before and at different points in my life it has been a friend and/or a foe and sometimes it simply plays cruel jokes. In the moments where my mind and heart miss these people the most, I must remind myself that they’re gone — time and time again. That’s the hardest part — the reminder that those I wish were here aren’t and that time didn’t stop. Despite my best efforts to beg it to stop.
Over the past year, I have been working hard to get to know myself again, to understand the me that remains. Trying to find a way to be friends with the passing of time and the missing pieces of my puzzle.
Love Ray
