People you are sad aren't in your life anymore

Obviously inspired by this thread, whom do you miss?

Adina: My cousin. Also my closest friend from high school and early adulthood. We shared so many wonderful and tragic times together. Then life happened— she married, moved across the country, had three kids, and naturally adopted new priorities. But for the occasional greeting card, we barely are in touch anymore. There are no hard feelings, just a growing apart. I really miss her.

Brian: Romantic interest. Though it was some years ago, I still think about him and miss him deeply. We would talk on the phone and through e-mails all day, every day, about anything and everything. It was a natural and strong intellectual and emotional bond that was rare. A love that almost hurt. We couldn’t be together for logistical reasons, and while I am happy in my life now, I think I always will have that nagging in the back of my mind of an incredible love that we may have missed out on. I hope that somehow we will cross paths again, even if only as friends.
So. Whom do you miss?

My ex-boss. He and I became pretty good friends while I worked for him. He was one of the saddest people I have ever known. A year or so before we became friends, he had been in a car accident with his long-term boyfriend, and watched the love of his life die right in front of him.

He hadn’t been able to get his life back together. He had intermittent drug problems and fell in with a group of “friends” who were manipulative and selfish. He was a good guy, but very lonely and lost. He was afraid to love again because of the pain of potential loss. I spent many hours talking to him, and trying to help him heal.

Our company was sold, and so we went our seperate ways. I begged him to keep in touch, but I never heard from him again. I still wonder what happened to him, and send good thoughts his way. I hope he’s happy, wherever he is.

This one’s easy, but maudlin: my dad.

My mom and her father. Both down-to-earth people with a great sense of humor.

Jerry Garcia.

My friend Cory. We met as co-workers at my very first job and instantly hit it off. He is a fantastic poetry writer and introduced me to many good books and movies I would have otherwise ignored. He and I could always talk to each other, even though we have very different views and backgrounds. He moved and we kept in touch, but that faltered after a while. He moved back and I got to reconnect with him, but then he moved again, then I moved and I haven’t talked to him since. I hope he sends me an email one day!

Jessica Alba.

Too demanding in bed. Wouldn’t wear clothes around the house. Constant need for attention.


Hmm… Boner, Adam, Adam, Gord, Tab, Simon, Jen, Nick, Teresa.

I miss my Grammie and my Uncle, who both died of cancer.

I miss both of my great aunts. One went to the hospital because of something wrong with her leg - one of her daughters, who lives in BC, called her up and asked if she should come home to be with her. My aunt said to her, “Nonsense! It’s just day surgery. It’s not like I’m dying or anything!” She died the next day. No one knows why. The other aunt had a stroke a year and a half ago. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the last. She was also my godmother, and she taught me to knit. She was goofy and free-spirited, much to the embarrassment of my Nanny (her sister). I miss her.

The people who died make me the saddest, naturally, but there’s another weird reason: with the exception of my Grammie, they were all still alive when I left home a couple years ago. I keep trying to wrap my head around it all: when I return home to visit, they won’t be there. My aunt won’t be there in her front picture window, knitting away happily, waving to anyone who waved at her from their car as they drove by, right where I left her. She was supposed to stay put! My uncle won’t be there, morose and complaining about bills and girlfriends, but then cheering up to show off something new he added to his Beatles collection and happily ordering a pizza. He’s supposed to be there, right where I left him. And I think, for me, that’s what the saddest thing is. It isn’t really home without them. It’s like someone broke in and stole them, and I don’t know how I’ll ever feel quite right about going home again.

I miss my Nanny - not because she died, but because she’s so far away now, I can’t just walk up the road and visit her.

In a funny kinda way, I miss my kids’ dad.

We divorced almost 20 years ago, over his alcoholism.

There are things I still wish I could say to him. Times when the kids woud do something cute, and I wanted someone to be there, when I turned around and said “Isnt’ that cute!”

He’s still living but we don’t talk much anymore. The kids are almost grown, I’ve a new Hubby now.

If things had turned out differently … who knows. If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride, I suppose.

My mom. She died just short of 57 years old. We were getting along well, finally, when she became ill. I regret that she never got to meet my wife. I think she would have been profoundly shocked to learn that I was going to move from Canada to the US for the love of a woman. But after that wore off, I’m sure my wife and my mother would have got on like a house on fire. And she could have come down here on vacations. But oh well.

The woman that I wanted to marry 2.5 years ago.

My grandfather, Aaron.

Shard. Died way too young from a stupid piece of accident. He sometimes annoyed me, sometimes infuriated me, but always, always impressed me. He was a piece of work.

My maternal grandfather, who died when I was seven. I think about him a lot, and wonder what he’d think of me, or my sister now. Or the fact that he has seven great-grandchildren. How he’d be so thrilled about the recent Steelers victory at Super Bowl XL.

And my godmother, my favorite aunt, Gigi. She died when I was about eleven, after complications of years of alcoholism. She was just getting better, she had recently gotten sober, then she caught an infection that killed her. I think she’d be really proud of her kids, and what they’ve accomplished.

My great-uncle Ed, who died when I was 12. He only got to see one of his grandchildren, as a baby, and I think he’d be absolutely over the moon with the six of them-he loved kids. Especially my little cousin, whom I’ll call D. He and that boy would have gotten along like a house on fire. I think it’s really sad that I knew these kids’ grandfather and they didn’t.

Not so sad, my friend Dave. He and I worked together at a local grocery store when I was in high school. We kind of lost touch in college, and I’ve always wonder what he was up to. He was a really fun guy to hang out with.