Missing someone at 4 AM

Missing someone at 4 AM always hurts more than missing someone at 4 in the afternoon. 

I find myself going over our last few days together in my head.

Our final conversation. The final words we spoke to each other. Our last interaction. 

Quite honestly, missing someone you know you cannot speak to is so much worse than missing someone because of distance or our own personal barriers. Of course, I miss people like my sister who lives states away from me, but we talk almost every single day. Granted I wish I could hug her and her family; give my niece and nephew kisses, but when we facetime, I feel as if my basic physiological need to have face to face interaction with them is met. 

But missing someone that you can’t make up that lost time with; people that are not around, and not always the people that have passed away. Sometimes even people in the military or on a missionary trip or whatever it may be. People that we just have no contact with. It hurts so much more. It’s the whole concept of wanting something you can’t have. 


Missing someone at 4 AM always hurts more than missing someone at 4 in the afternoon.

I think about this often. Now I cherish the time I spend with anyone and everyone I love. Not that I didn’t before, I just don’t think I did enough. And it’s not that I didn’t care, but I think this sprung from the fact I didn’t really experience loss until I was 14. Now in retrospect of the average age humans life 14 is young, but when you consider your brain is 90% developed at age 6 and by about age 8 much of your critical brain growth is taken care of, 14 is old. This is why that age is a good time to learn so much new information, like other languages. Obviously, we are constantly growing and developing, but my point being is that so much of our minds are developed at a young point in our life. So in the world of cognitive development, once again, 14 is old.

Age 14 was the age I first experienced true loss. Of course, when I was younger I lost pet fish, but I was never really attached to them. I lost toys, but that’s nothing like losing a person. I was lucky enough to have all of my closest family and friends around all throughout my childhood. Until my teen years, I didn’t experience the death of someone that was close to me. At this age, I lost the mom of one of my best friends growing up. 

I used to spend almost every day at their house. They lived right across the street so sleepovers were customary and walking straight into their house like it was my own was expected. Losing her put a lot into perspective for me. It really made me start to critically think about the fact we are all here for our designated amount of time and that time is not forever. 

One of my favorite things I heard from someone is, ‘We have a finite number of breaths.’ and I truly think about that just about every day

At that time I thought this was my pivotal moment, but it wasn’t. Until I lost my grandpa, I don’t think I really realized how temporary life is.


Missing someone at 4 AM always hurts more than missing someone at 4 in the afternoon.

Losing him put a lot of things in perspective for me. It was so unexpected I feel like I never really went out of my way to cherish my time with him, and we can’t live our lives like that. I often think about the last time I saw him, it was just a couple days before he passed away. He picked me up from work and to this day I can’t remember if I told him I loved him when I got out of the car. I know he knows I love him, but it kills me not knowing if I said it.

I want people to know how much I care about them now. I make it such a huge point to express my gratitude for the people around me. As I’ve said, I’ve always been a compassionate person, maybe sometimes too compassionate, but I don’t think until the loss of my grandpa I really began to be okay with that. I hated feeling vulnerable expressing my love to people, but I’d rather have that love expressed than never express it at all and be missing out.


Missing someone at 4 AM always hurts more than missing someone at 4 in the afternoon.

I don’t know what it is, but it’s such a true statement. You just miss people more than you thought you ever would. At 4 AM you miss them more than you want to. You reminisce about all the fun times you had. You wish you would have taken in those moments more. In the moment, though, how can you know you’re taking them in enough? You never know when you won’t get to have those moments anymore, so you will always wish you took in those moments more. You start to wish you could relive it all again. You want it all back. You would do anything to have just ten minutes with that person again.

Like I said before, We have a finite number of breaths.’. That’s us and the people around us. We can’t guarantee that we will be here tomorrow and we can’t guarantee that any one person around us will be here tomorrow either. This is why we can’t be so afraid to care. We can’t be afraid of anything. We have to conquer all of our fears, every single one of them. 

‘The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all.’

Don’t be cautious all the time. You’ll miss out on life. You’ll miss out on life for yourself and you’ll miss out on life with other people.

So: tell people you love them, jump out of planes, care too much, dive the depths of the ocean, speak up for yourself, swim with sharks, try things and fail, ask someone on a date, live your life.

Do the things that frighten you, because those are the things worth remembering. None of us are guaranteed tomorrow, so make the most of today.

 

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