Everyone has someone to miss.
Some people you miss when they’re dead, but not before that. They exude a warm thereness when alive and a goneness when dead, both of which settle heavy in your stomach and are at least reliable.
One or two you miss when they’re at the other end of a party. Those people happen, and you can’t unhappen them. You just have to miss them, at stupid times of the day and for stupid reasons, sometimes when they’re right next to you. And it’s impossible to hate them for it, or not mind that they occupy your life in this way.
Like bums, we take what we can get. And on our better days, we have the decency to be grateful.
Maybe take comfort in knowing you can miss everyone sometimes, and you can miss some people all the time, but you can’t miss everyone all the time. Or you shouldn’t, for pete’s sake.
Maybe learn to stick around anyway.