Dear future hubster,
your Captain Obvious future wife strikes again. And tells you how missing somebody feels.
Odd, that is.
Because you think you are prepared for it, you expect that big void somewhere at stomach level, and you are surprised and almost disappointed when you can't feel it. You are missing the void, really?
Thing is, it will kick you like being homesick kicks you in a supermarket, somewhere between the candy and the cheese aisle. Randomly, antipoetically, without quiet and sad background music.
You don't miss people 24/7. You miss them in situations they used to be present, and you expect them to be present in. You miss them when you wake up and they are not there, looking grumpy and not talking to you. You miss them when you wear something they used to love. Or make fun of. You miss them when you cook their favourite food; you miss them when you keep checking everything you buy to fit their allergies. You miss them when you make a stupid joke nobody else would understand; you miss them when you use an expression you picked up from them. Indeed. You miss them when you do something that used to drive them crazy; you miss them when you wash your bananas. And always keep your frisbee clean. You miss them every time, and painfully so, when you remember something you said once and you think hurt them and you never stopped feeling guilty for it, even though they probably wouldn't even remember the incident. You miss them when you see a movie they would enjoy; when you listen to music they couldn't stand. You miss them when you walk down a street where you used to spot them; you miss them when you go to their favourite bar. You miss them when you suddenly have a groundbreaking thought you want to share; you miss them when you want to tell them that a lady on the street complimented on your dress. And the guy wanted to sell you a painting of Martin Kobler.
Basically, you miss them every time life reminds you that they are not where they used to be. That is, around you.
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