I used to think I would never be able to live a day without missing a particular person. It’s not a lonely fear. Post break-up, I think I am probably in the puffy-eyed majority of the brokenhearted.
For weeks to months to years, I still would say, I miss him every day. After three years, it became a slower miss him less which morphed into I don’t miss him… most days. Then four years came, and I forgot to miss him for days-even weeks- at a time. Now, five years (and counting) later, I miss the man I loved for ten years, never at all.
It took the beauty out of him. I suddenly had so much more to look at like I’d been looking at only one work for ten years. Suddenly, there was an entire museum.
There’s an art to missing people.I love holding this paint brush. It turns-out, missing people is a beautiful production. It feels nice admitting I miss people almost all of the time because I finally let the first love of my life go. By not missing him, I got the chance to miss a multitude of people.
I also acquired a lot of loves: from climbing trees to breweries to non-profit conferences, I stopped formulating the “love of my life” and manifested a life of love. I did this many ways: amazing times in nature; depth in community; friends (amazing friends! Challenging…
