Missing is a feeling of love that remains. Love that remains that is hard to describe. Missing isn’t very easy to explain. But I’ll try to explain how I feel right now about missing.

I’m talking about the missing that accompanies loss – what could have been, would have been, might have been – but knowing it never could be because, whatever it is or whoever it is, isn’t here anymore or wasn’t a compatible fit for me. The missing of someone or something that is no longer here with me, near me, on my side, by my side.

Remembering moments in time. Missing those moments. The good ones, not the bad.

Missing is a sly little devil because it remembers the positives, but forgets the negatives.

For me, it erases those moments of time when I was sure that missing would never exist because I was sad or angry or lonely. Fed up. Apathetic, too.

Broken relationships, death. Missing doesn’t differentiate.

It doesn’t matter how happy I might be in a moment when missing shows up and knocks on my heart. Tears well up in my eyes, stream down my face – missing can feel so fucking intense sometimes.

I stand there and label it. “Missing. Missing. Missing,” knowing it would be easy for me to wrap a story around it, to rationalize it. To judge my heart for feeling it. “90 seconds,” I tell my heart. 90 seconds of this emotion, this feeling. One and a half minutes and missing will disappear because that’s how long emotions, feelings last. 90 seconds.

As time passes, missing returns more gently, becomes a sort of whisper in my heart.

I don’t like missing, but I know that it serves a purpose. I know that it’s part of my healing process. Part of my story. It doesn’t mean I want things to be different, it means I’m feeling. If you know me, you know I’d rather feel than not feel. To hide it or numb it. I’ve been there, done that. It wasn’t worth it. Numbing is a cop out and hiding it does more damage than good.

Missing honors a part of life that I lived. Missing honors the impact that someone or something had on my heart, my soul. Missing eventually leads to peace. It just takes time.

And in the meantime, when missing comes knocking, I’ll hold space for it.