Missing from Me

The concept of missing people and things is fascinating to me. It is so interesting that I can be going about my day normally and then suddenly and for no reason get this taste in my heart for a person who isn't with me, or how I can hear or see one little thing and then instantly be thinking of a friend and wishing for and needing them to be with me in that moment. 

I love people. I also like to be alone, but I really love people. And when we are apart, I miss all the pieces of them - the faces they make, the things they do that make me laugh or roll my eyes in amusement, the way they hang on me like a monkey, the way they pronounce certain words, the feelings of pure jubilee that I have from being with one specific person, the way they hold (squeeze) my hand while walking until I feel like my hand is going to be torn off of me but still I don't want them to let go because I like being connected in this way.

My mind normally has a lot going on between what I am doing in a moment and what I am thinking about at that moment and preparing for what I am doing next and what I thought about what I did yesterday and wondering about things that aren't relevant at the moment but do matter and so much more. So I know that if I am going about my day with all of that thinking, then am struck with the thought of a person, I must really miss them. Because with all of that thinking and doing going on and then a person just waltzing into my head and then my heart so fervently aching to be with them - to enjoy their presence and their personality and their idiosyncrasies with utmost fondness in my heart - they are special and dear.

I saw a pin on Pinterest once that said the French for "I miss you" is "tu me manque," which, if translated literally, means "you are missing from me." I don't know if what Pinterest said was exactly true or what but the concept of it is nice - that I can be here, and a person can be away from me - in New Zealand, or Philadelphia, or just around the riverbend, but logistics for spending time together aren't working out - but still they are a part of me, and that part of me is missing. 

It's as if my heart is Voldemort's horcrux. I've split it into so many pieces and given it all around so that it is spread all over creation. However, unlike Voldemort's horcrux, slicing up and giving away my heart makes it more compassionate and more inclined to continue to do so. All of these pieces of me are spread around, but that doesn't mean that there is less of me wherever I am. It means that I am a friendship soup of all of the people I have ever known and loved. 

One day, I will be in Heaven with Christ and with all of these people who have pieces of my heart, and that will be the greatest - to never be separated and to always be with all of those whom I love. Until then, I will miss those to whom I've had to say goodbye (for a day, for six months, for indefinite amounts of time, for potentially the rest of our lives), and I will know and love those who I am with. Just know that pieces of my heart are out there floating around, inside of other people (whether or not they know it) and it's the best thing. 

Love,
Lauralicious