What Stays

Missing someone lingers in the chest like a soft ache, a quiet reminder that something meaningful once filled a space that now feels a little emptier. Whether you’ve just broken up with someone, lost a loved one, or even experienced something as simple—but still emotional—as your favorite car mechanic retiring, it can hit you in unexpected ways. There’s a strange beauty in it, though. Knowing that you had something worth missing in the first place—and surprisingly, that’s the sweet part of the whole thing. You carry those memories with you, the laughter, the crying, the familiar moments that once made everything feel just right. And yet, you know it won’t ever be the same again. That’s where the bitter part settles in. That’s when you feel the wave of disgust, nausea, and maybe even regret and longing. When it sinks in you won’t be able to pick up the phone and call them when you need comfort, or when you have something exciting to share. You won’t be able to swing by and hear the familiar voice, or get the same care and attention you were once used to. Someone new will fix your tires now, and it might feel wrong at first—like a small part of your world has shifted.

But here's the thing: this change, as hard as it is, is good for you. Growth often hides inside discomfort. Think of it like the seasons changing. There’s a rhythm to it, a reason for it, even when it feels unwelcome at first. Autumn allows its leaves to shed for winter, how winter keeps things in place and frozen for spring to thaw out. And how spring has flowers bloom and warn people that the sun will be out more with longer days. You have to have that. You might miss the winter—so deeply. How everything becomes still-motion-like almost. The snow falls slowly to the ground while everyone’s sleeping, people's cheeks and noses red and blush-like, how the decorations look placed, the candles people have lit you can see through their windows. People tend to slow down and rest by the fire with family. But spring, you have to remember, gives a new, crisp, brighter shell to come out of in a way. When the days get longer, your worries get less and less frequent, the bees and butterflies come out, a new life comes into bloom. You need that kind of change. We all do. Even when it hurts.

But don’t forget: spring brings something beautiful, too. Even if it’s not winter, it gives you a fresh, crisp, brighter shell to grow into. It invites you to step forward, to get rid of what you don’t feel you need any more, and eventually a new life comes into bloom. As the days stretch longer and the nights grow softer, your worries begin to feel a little lighter. The bees come out, the butterflies flutter by, and with them comes a sense of newness—a gentle, persistent hope that life continues to move forward, and so can you. Yes, you can miss the winter. You can wish for it, pray for its return, feel that ache when you remember how it used to be. But you have to understand: you can’t get it back, at least not exactly as it was. That moment in time has passed, is gone. What you can do is hold it close as a memory. Let it warm you when you need it, not as something to cling to, but something to be grateful for. And when that season comes around again—because it always will—you’ll know what to do. You’ll be more attentive. Do the things you didn’t do before. Or maybe, do them again—but with more intention, with more presence, with more heart. Because that’s what missing something really is—a sign that it mattered, and a reminder to make the most of what comes next.