Saturday, September 8, 2018

The Privilege of Missing Someone

Out of all the complex array of human emotions, missing someone has to be one of the most complicated, deeply intense ones. We miss someone who for various reasons left our lives: Be it moving to a different city, not being our friend anymore, moving on from this world, or moving away from us internally, even while standing right next to us.

It is such a sweet and bitter ache in my heart when I miss someone. Missing him/her means that I had the privilege of getting to know that person in the first place. The one I miss has left deep impressions on my life, my soul, my days. It is those impressions that I crave, because they are no longer there. Yet, having had the luxury of living with someone who had the ability to leave those impressions leaves a warm feeling in me. Like a soft glow of warm light that is enough for me even when the person is not there. Something is finished, has gone by, moved on, yet what it leaves in me is enough for a sweet nostalgia that does not necessarily give extreme pain, just a light chafing at the heart.

I walk around in the places I once was with that person, with that soft glow still burning inside me like a candle, warming me and burning me from the inside out at the same time. I obsessively retrace the paths I took with that person, like a ritual that is full of melancholy and a sweet sadness.

The candle keeps burning. It might never extinguish. My heart is full of such eternal fires, each one for a different person who touched my life in a different kind of way.

Maybe this is what life is. Burning from the inside out constantly, without reprieve, days on end, until we are consumed by the ultimate darkness.