Missing Hurts

Tonight’s one of those nights where I have to write letters like this. The kind that spill out of missing someone I can’t reach.

I wish I could tell you how much I miss you. How much I wish I could have been in your office today, sitting across from you, the air holding that quiet safety that always felt like a soft landing. I wish I could have heard your familiar voice filling the space between us. I miss your therapeutic silence, the way it could hold the weight of my grief and pain without asking it to be anything other than what it was.

I miss being known. I miss being seen past the parts of me that feel unlovable. You got to know me… really know me, and that’s something rare.

I just miss you… as a human.

I miss getting to know how you’re doing and even though it’s a wish I’ll never get, I wish I could know you as deeply as you got to know me.

And I wish that parts of our lives could still intersect.

Author’s Note:

Some nights, the missing gets too heavy to hold in silence. Tonight I have more grief than I know how to hold.