I miss you.
Not in a way that needs to be explained, and not in a way that fits neatly into logic. Just in a way that exists, whether I want it to or not. It shows up at the most unexpected times, driving home, sitting in silence, hearing something that reminds me of a moment I didn’t realize mattered as much as it did. And suddenly, you’re there again. Not physically, but clearly enough that it feels like you could be.
People say time heals things. Maybe it does, to a degree. Maybe it softens the edges so they don’t cut quite as deep. But it doesn’t always take the feeling with it. Some things don’t leave. They don’t disappear or fade into nothing. They just change form and settle into a quieter place, somewhere beneath the surface where they don’t demand attention, but they’re always there.
What I find interesting is that I don’t dwell on everything. I don’t sit and replay every argument or pick apart what went wrong. That part doesn’t stay with me the same way. What stays is how it felt when it was right. When it was just us, without the noise of everything else. There was a simplicity to it. A peace that didn’t need to be explained. Just being there was enough.
That’s the part that lingers. That’s what makes this so hard to define. Because when something feels that real, it doesn’t just shut off because circumstances changed. Life keeps moving forward whether you’re ready for it or not. There are responsibilities, routines, expectations. You show up, you do what needs to be done, and from the outside everything looks exactly the way it’s supposed to.
But internally, there’s still a space where you exist.
Not in a way that disrupts everything, and not in a way that keeps me from moving forward. But in a way that’s consistent. Quiet. Present. I don’t need you here to still feel you here, and that’s something most people don’t really understand. There’s this assumption that if you miss someone, it means you’re stuck, or that you haven’t moved on. But that’s not always what it is.
Sometimes it’s just love that didn’t have anywhere to go.
It doesn’t disappear just because the situation changed. It doesn’t shut off because it would be more convenient if it did. It just stays, and you learn how to carry it. There are moments where I think about sitting across from you again, not to fix anything or change anything, but just to be there in that space one more time. Not because I expect anything different, but because there was something about it that felt complete in a way that’s hard to find.
And maybe that doesn’t make sense. Maybe it’s not supposed to. Feelings don’t always follow logic, and they don’t always resolve themselves into something clean and understandable. You can understand everything that happened. You can see it clearly, accept it for what it is, and still feel something that hasn’t gone anywhere.
I don’t know if that ever fully leaves. I don’t know if it’s supposed to. Maybe some connections don’t end. Maybe they just become something quieter, something internal, something you carry instead of something you live in.
I don’t have an answer for it. There’s no clean conclusion to wrap this in, no lesson to tie it all together in a way that makes it easier.
I just know this, I miss you. And some days, that’s all there is.
Troy P Zehnder 