When I say I miss you, what I mean is that everything reminds me of you.
Wood. Tea. Cars. Water. Dogs. Books. Spoons. Cushions. Socks. Rain. Toast. Wind chimes. Children. Everything has a connection to you. The way you would feel about this, how you would look in that, what you would say to them, when we bought that, when we made this. You are everywhere. As if my mind was not consumed enough by you, your essence is everywhere outside of me too.
When I say I miss you, what I mean is, I wonder.
I wonder what moments would have been like had you been here. If we had been our best. With space to love each other. How we would have shared a knowing smile in front of strangers. Or perhaps a kiss and then a look, want in both eyes, promises on our lips. A giggle or a belly laugh. I wonder how you would affect my world if you were in it again.
When I say I miss you, what I mean is, I talk to you—often.
The space between my eyes and the wall becomes filled with you. I talk as I wish I had, as I plan to do again. I fight with you too. I always win in the space between my eyes and the wall. But then we always make up. And make up. And make up.
When I say I miss you, what I mean is, I imagine you.
I imagine what you’re doing and try to work out where you’ll be. Perhaps you went out tonight. Perhaps you met friends. Did you talk about me? Did you miss me? Or maybe you stayed in. I try to think of you in your best self. Happy, content, loving. And I hope you are all those things. I see your eyes. And they smile at me. Your hands brush mine. Our lips quiver as our jaws reach for the other. I imagine you.
When I say I miss you, what I mean is, I stare.
I catch myself after a minute or two and am never quite sure what I was thinking about. But I know it was you. Maybe it wasn’t even a thought. Just a feeling. The ideal. Just swaying with your rythym.
When I say I miss you, what I mean is, I cry.
Most often I don’t. I don’t let myself. And then every now again, it crashes through and over my defences. A song. A comment from a child. And I’m a messy ball of regret and need. But then I feel better. As though I’ve honoured a part of myself. And a part of you.
When I say I miss you, what I mean is, I think.
Like, really think. I think about the ways in which I need to change. They are a constant in my mind. Inescapable and important. Long, long thinkings distracted by yoga and candles and writing and children and dancing and laughing. And I’m grateful to you. For without your presence, I would never have seen what my own bullshit could cost me if I don’t fight it and ultimately grow up.
When I say I miss you, what I mean is, I look forward.
I look forward to our first meeting. Our first touch. Our first kiss. Our first night. Silly, I know, and full of expectation but I do it anyway. And boy are you wonderful! And boy so am I! I look forward to your eyes seeing mine and seeing clarity again. Clear, easy love with none of the torturous thoughts that once barraged my mind. I look forward to me not caring about the negative, harmful things I have cared so much about. And I look forward to being able to love you, just as you are, with all of me. No hiding, no denying, no judgement, no fear. I look forward to us.
When I say I miss you, what I mean is, I remember.
I remember moments that I had since filed away as mundane or unimportant. Like cooking courgettes with paprika, or laughing about the dirty towels we would dig out for early morning yoga. Like your shoes, that I never really liked, flung across the floor, or times we caved in and went for drive through fast food. I remember all the things I had forgotten to make it easier to blame you.
When I say I miss you, what I mean is, I regret.
I regret like poison running through my veins. Regret that we both carried attachments we should have shed before meeting, regret for the way I looked at you and what and who I saw. Regret for the way you didn’t see me. I regret the inability to shed the thoughts I had. The distance they created and how blind they made me.
I regret time wasted and unappreciated. I regret not being able to see that moments were being passed to me, not shared with me. And that the past did not matter. That, I regret most of all.
When I say I miss you, what I mean is, I resolve.
I resolve to change my life. From the inside out. Heart forward. I resolve to find me and love me. To know that I am good enough, that I have not lost out, that I am wonderful and that the integrity and honour and magic I so desperately seek has been within me all along. I resolve to fix the broken parts and accept the ugly parts. I resolve to discover what holds me back and love it until it holds me back no more. I resolve to meet you again and be happy, with a clear mind, loving eyes and open heart. I resolve to be me again.
When I say I miss you, what I mean is, that all these words do very little to justify or give credence to the small, quiet feeling inside of me. The feeling that radiates a longing and a knowing. A longing for happiness and a knowing of its possibility. A longing for you and a knowing of the deepest feelings I have for you.
A longing for our future and a knowing that we can have it. All of it.
When I say I miss you, what I mean is, I’ve lit a candle, am listening to beautiful music and am pouring my love for you through the ether.
When I say I miss you, what I mean is, can you feel it?
When I say I miss you, what I mean is…
How do you compare?
Author: Andy Charrington
Editor: Renee Picard
Image: Agalexag at Flickr