That age old saying ‘time heals all ills’ isn’t exactly true.
Time passes, and sometimes you forget. Sometimes you forget for days, maybe even weeks, and it seems like, hey, maybe time does heal. Maybe, just maybe, you have come to peace with everything. Acceptance.
And then, at midday on an unremarkable Sunday, everything hits you all over again and it’s like no time has passed at all.
You still miss them.
It still hurts.
There is, all of a sudden, none of the calm reflection and acceptance, there’s just the overwhelming sensation of heartbreak and fury and sadness and loss.
It might have been almost five years, but I still find myself thinking I should send you a text about something I’ve seen or a song I’ve heard.
I still wonder if you’d be up for a pint some time and a catch up.
Damnit, Tim. I miss you. Still.
And today it hurts and I don’t really know why.
I guess I just need to hear your sarcastic fury at the state of 2020. I thought I needed that in 2016, but it turns out that was just a warm up year.
Maybe 2015 was the right year to escape – there’s been a whole lot of fury and chaos in the world since. And you’d have been proper pissed off by Lockdown and all the pubs closing.
But regardless, I wish you were here to rage through it with us.