Losing a friend hurts in a deeper way, more than you would realize.

In the moments you think you will never put yourself back together, and years down the road – you are still not entirely back together. At least, that is what happened to me.

I got through the funeral, the memorials, the hugs from the friends I have not seen in years and the friends I saw just the day before. I got “the look,” the ‘I am so sorry but I do not really know what else to say’ half-smile and shrug, the “if you need anything, do not hesitate.” I got through all that and expected life to go back to status quo. After all, that is how it happens in movies, right?

I miss you the most when I am:

Walking through the grocery store and the song that we used to scream-sing in class in our younger years, and bars in our not-so-young years, comes on and I reach for my phone to tell you it is on and I remember I cannot.

Drowning in my sadness or in a funk and need a hug. Wishing for someone to just watch movies with, to listen or maybe just a dose of tough love. You were always good for one of them, and most times you were good for all.

And the most surprising of all, when I am having a blast, making memories with friends and family, and I want more than anything else for you to be there living the best life, making memories of your own with all of us.

There is no timeline on grief. There is no fluidity. Sometimes it hits you like a ton of bricks, and that’s okay. It took me a while to realize it but it’s okay to have breakdown moments weeks, months, years later. It’s okay to miss them, to want them around, and especially to talk about the person. Because that’s love and a friendship without love is merely just an acquaintance.