When you miss someone

Original post: January 20, 2008; update: January 20, 2010

It’s hard when you miss someone. It’s harder when you miss them more than you thought you would; when even though you know the ache is going to come, and you think you’re ready for it, you get hit by a moment where you just miss them.

You can try being busy with schoolwork; you can try drowning out the silence with the TV or with music; you can distract yourself with the Xbox 360; you can run yourself ragged playing soccer. But in the end, when you have a moment to yourself, that’s when it hits. And it hits hard.

But you’re supposed to be strong, right? Supposed to be able to laugh it off, to go out the next day and have a blast, to get on with your life. “Don’t be a downer. Cheer up.”

But it’s not that easy; and you just wish you had people to be there for you, to understand, to say that it’s okay to feel like crap, to just give you a big, long, drown-out-the-world-in-their-embrace kind of hug, to pray with you, to let you cry.

Coz when someone’s been a part of your life for that long, as close to you as they have been—sharing meals, conversations, laughs, cries, arguments, life stories, inappropriate jokes, inappropriate smells—it’s part of life to readjust to having a hole where they were. It’s mourning. And it’s right to mourn. It’s good to grieve such a loss.

And even though you’re going to see them again, maybe soon, maybe not, you know that it’s the end of an era, the end of a golden age.

All you can do is pray that God keeps doing what he does, and that the pain doesn’t last too long.

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