When someone dies we’re always like, “Dang. I really wish I could have spent more time” with that person. Or, “Man, we always had such good times; I wish we could have had more.” Or, “Wow, it’s been THAT long since we got together!?”
I’m torn between thinking that we NEVER have enough of a good thing; that no amount of time we share with people we care about will EVER be enough…
…and with trying to remember this feeling of lost possibility each and every day by putting forth the effort required to have those good times while we can; to obtain those additional memories no matter the cost, as if wildly grasping for some type of hold on something completely out of control.
I’m often left simply missing what I never had. It’s a shame the present remains so fucking allusive.