Go back in time about 8 years and you find me and my best friend Evan driving in a van to Sydney. Our conversation revolved around the idea that when each of us were apart, we didn’t really miss each other and when we returned to each other it was like we had never left.

Since that day I’ve struggled with the idea of ‘missing’ people because I am always surrounded by people I love, I make friends rather easily, my home currently is rather transient, and if I miss one person, then I probably miss everyone.

Just over a year ago I was walking the hills of a district in East Timor and we discussed how I don’t like saying I love you out loud. I say it tons in text, I think it all the time, but a lot of the time, saying it out loud is so deep, so important, that it is awkward to say (outside of i.e “i love cake”… thats different)

So you have these weird internal conflicts rolling around inside me. And then I fly out of Sydney, by myself, for at least five months, by myself, going to strange lands i’ve never been to before, by myself, and suddenly new emotions arrive.

I am cripplingly shy. In context I’m bold and I have no issue with being foolish to give other people space to be more them. In context I’m brave and extroverted and the accidental life of the party. But in other contexts (I.E with no safety blanket) I am earth shakingly shy. I go socially hermit. And because thats not most of me, if its for too long, I begin to shut down.

I am comforted and made to feel safe in the world of tactile physical touch. it keeps me sane. It keeps me secure in who i am, that the world is ok because I am being touched. And i found pathways back to my childhood, my parents are very tactile. They are both huggers. And me especially, through some awful burning and asthma attacks and miscellaneous ‘Jeremy trying to accident prone himself to death’, I found myself held in hospital quite a lot of my younger years. This echos into my late twenties, my background noise love language is physical touch and strangers aren’t usually good at figuring that out.

I love talking, I love telling stories, but also like listening and hearing people talk. And on top of all that, I also love not talking whilst with people. One of the most glorious seasons of my life was 2013, because I had a friendship group that was sitting regularly with each other and not talking. Because we were secure in our friendship enough so that we enjoyed talking with each other, but we didn’t have to. That friendship security doesn’t happen over night.

I am Australian, I do Australian things and most of those fly in the face of European and Scandinavian cultural thought.

I say all these things to say this.

I miss you. I miss sitting in a room with you and just listening to you breathe and knowing all is right with my life. Even in the most stressed filled moments, a joke, or a hand on the back, or a smile means its OK.

I miss you, because you actually know who I am. I’m not just a clown, I’m not just a rebellious question asker, I’m not just a beardy Aussie. You know me because we have done life together and it has been glorious.

I miss you because you call my BS and its not weird.
I miss you because I love you.
I miss you because I can make people laugh all over the world, but it means more making you laugh and then making myself laugh so we end up giggling all together.
I miss you because I can be completely honest without having to second guess or over think my words.
I miss you because I can create with you without being nervous, because I know what we both want.

I miss your hugs and your forehead kisses.
I miss your random cakes and food ideas.
I miss staff meetings with you where we didn’t get anything done but all of us changed.
I miss telling you stories and walking for what felt like years up and down mountains.

I miss road trips with you even when we smelled like crap.

I miss you all but I’m glad I know you.

So what I mean when i say I miss you is, I love you, i have a deep appreciation for you and our friendship and I will forever. But I also understand that our season is about to change dramatically, and its going to continue to be bitter sweet.

And the last three days its felt like i’ve been mourning. And thats ok. What I’m finding of late is an echo of a ladies words I heard in Muizenberg.

“You will always miss out on things, but do you really want to miss out on the main event?”

I will continue to miss weddings and births and deaths and other events.
But I think choosing certain things will mean i will miss out on less then i would if i chose not to choose, which in itself is a decision any way.

So i miss you. But I am choosing not to miss this.

(to come in future – the generation of missing things.)

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