I've spent a lot of time missing things lately. People, places, objects. I dream of Germany and her mountains, her rolling hills, her lush, flowered-filled gardens. The orchards blooming in the spring, the fruit growing in the fields in the summer and the people, those friends I made and whom I still love deeply. I miss my dad and talking with him over a burger and coke on a patio in the sun. Even in our complicated and often strained relationship, we talked about so many things together. I miss my brother, even though we can barely stand each other, I miss his face. I try to picture him in his foreign, tropical paradise that also sounds like the craziest place on Earth and wonder if I will get a chance to visit him there. I miss my niece and her family that has become my family, that welcomed me with open arms and made me part of their clan. I miss friends that I don't see enough. I miss their laughter and their stories, I miss holding them and telling them to their faces that I love them. I miss my dear girls when they are away on their weekly sojourn with their dad and I miss every experience they have that I am not having with them. I miss human contact and love and affection from a partner that loves me back.
Sometimes I miss all those things so much, I feel as though my heart will burst with longing and sadness. It's crushing to think I may never see those places again or hold those people again. In some cases, I know my last moment with them has passed and they are only a memory to me now. Some I fear I will never see again and some I know I will be lucky enough to be in their presence once more. But life is so unpredictable, you never know when these things will happen. So you miss them and you wait. And you hope and you dream and you plan.
And then, and I realize fully just how cheesy this is going to sound, I realize that I am truly a lucky person to have such strong feelings about anything that I miss it that much. To even miss one thing with such passion that you lie awake at night wishing you could experience it just one more time, all that means is that I have been given a gift. I have felt passion and I have lost passion, I have seen it slip away from me, I have let it trail through my fingertips and wash away. I have tried to hold on and force it to stay and I have been disappointed when it left anyway. And yet, it comes back to me in another form, reminding me that no matter what I have lost, no matter the heartache or disappointment, it is always inside me to feel that way again. My internal, eternal optimist serves me well in that regard, because even in the darkest hour, I know there is always beauty to be found. As much as it hurts sometimes to miss something, imagine never feeling passionately about anything? Never feeling that euphoric high in a great accomplishment, never experiencing love in all its glory, never experiencing true contentment just from spying the morning dew on a freshly blossoming flower...what would be the point of it all if we did not have those glorious moments of clarity?