I know it feels like you’ve been missing him forever.
Like every long, lonely day just drags into the next. Like memories of the two of you seem to haunt everything you do, even the simple things like brushing your teeth or rolling over and reaching absentmindedly towards his side of the bed.
I know your heart feels like an empty cavity.
I know you ache with a loneliness so deep you swear it’s etched into every fiber, muscle, and bone of your skin.
But if I could promise you one thing, one tiny, flickering candle in the midst of your rainstorm, it’s this: You won’t always miss him.
Right now, your loss is present. It’s relevant. It’s current. It’s close.
You are still in the downswing of your heartbreak, you haven’t yet cut the ties and set yourself free. There’s nothing wrong with being where you are, with soaking in your pain and letting it cover you, letting yourself feel.
But eventually you have to be strong enough to shed that broken skin, strong enough to take deep breaths again, strong enough to smile.
You won’t always feel as weak as you do right now.
You won’t always imagine his face when you close your eyes, won’t always have the desire to know what he’s doing or where he is. You won’t always miss him before you go to sleep and as soon as you wake up.
You won’t always feel his kiss on your lips or his fingers through your hair.
There will be a time when he will no longer cross your mind and when you’ll merely smile in remembrance of him, of the two of you.
And that freedom will taste sweeter than any memory.
I know what you’re feeling right now. It’s a sort of hopelessness, a sort of purposelessness that you can acknowledge is crazy, but you can’t seem find your way out. You know you shouldn’t let this sadness destroy you. You know you shouldn’t give anyone that power over your emotions, but you can’t help it.
Love does crazy things to us.
Love can build us, but also destroy us.
I know that you’re aching. I know that you’re afraid. I know you need time to heal and time to rebuild and time to teach yourself what it means to be whole without someone else. I get it.
You are broken, and it’s okay to be broken right now.
You can’t rush your healing, and that’s fine.
But you need to know that this feeling won’t last. You need to know that just because you’re hurting doesn’t mean you can’t get back up again, doesn’t mean you’re weak.
You won’t always miss him.
You won’t always cry, won’t always curl under your covers instead of seeing the world, won’t always want to be alone and upset.
One day the world will open up to you and you’ll see the sun peeking through the blinds, welcoming a new day. And you won’t think of him in that moment. Instead you’ll reach, unconsciously, for the sun. And it will be the first step to your new beginning.
The new, beautiful world without him.