Of late, the urge to write in the wee hours of the night has returned. Over the last few nights, the urge has been quite insistent; I must comply.
Resistance is futile.
The quiet nights have not been good to me recently. It doesn't help that I am a late sleeper, most awake and lucid in the hours surrounding midnight; a legacy inherited from my father. Too many thoughts I'd rather not have come unbidden, and unwelcomed. Often, they're set off by the smallest and seemingly most insignificant of things.
I read something on the Internet one day. Something completely geeky and inane, but humourous enough for me to immediately want to share it with somebody. The only person I knew who would've understood and laughed with me was him. Unfortunately, calling him is no longer an option.
The thing I wanted to share with him has long since been forgotten. I can't even remember the gist of it. But the yearning to share things with him again remains.
I miss him still. Sometimes. Often. Mostly when there's something I want to share. Often, it's something so exceedingly geeky or nonsensical, nobody else I know would really get it. He used to thoroughly indulge me my whimsical side. I loved him endlessly for that. I loved him for a lot of things.
I had a really nice day today. I had dinner & coffee with my girls like we hadn't had in a long, long time. It was... it was love.
But much as I enjoyed myself, and much as I love my girls, it didn't help fill this hole in my heart.
I missed him today. I took the long way home from dinner, a long drive around town, one full of memories. I missed him so much.
But I can't help but wonder if it is just having someone to share things with that I really miss, and not the person itself? Some days, that seems so clear. Other days, the two are one and the same.
I wonder if he misses me this way too sometimes. I try not to think about it though, because whether he does or not at all, it still hurts a little too much.
