Softness in missing him

Dear Clark,

Today, I thought of you again. It feels like I start every letter this way, but it's true, you're always there, woven into my day in ways I can't ignore. But today, missing you came differently. Not sharp, not shattering, but soft. Almost like a whisper.

I wanted to make lumpia, so I went out to buy what I needed. When I got home, I set everything out on the counter, turned on a kdrama for company, and started cooking. I was fully absorbed in it and for a little while, I wasn't thinking of you, just focusing on the rhythm of cooking. It was grounding.

By the time I sat down to eat, I felt proud of myself. The lumpia turned out crispy, the soup was comforting, and I thought to myself, This is my small win today.

But the moment that thought crossed my mind, I remembered you. Back then, after finishing every little thing, I always messaged you. I'd say, "I made this," or "I finished that," and you always cared. You made me feel that even the smallest things mattered just because they came from me. You turned ordinary updates into meaningful conversations.

Sitting there today, looking at my plate of lumpia, I felt the silence of not being able to tell you. I imagined the picture I would have sent you, the sweet reply you would have given, maybe even you asking me to make it for you someday. Instead, it was just me, the food, and the memory of how loved you made me feel.

And yet, Clark, I didn't cry. The ache was there, yes, but it was softer than usual. Missing you today wasn't a storm; it was more like a drizzle, steady, gentle, something I could sit with. It reminded me that even though you're gone, the love we shared is still here, shaping the way I live my days.

I don't know when this missing will stop. Sometimes I think it never will. Maybe I'll always carry you with me, in the way I cook, the way I notice small joys, the way I find comfort in little things. Maybe love like ours doesn't disappear; maybe it just transforms.

Today, I missed you in a way that made me grateful. Grateful that I had someone like you to share my small wins with. Grateful that you taught me how even ordinary things can feel extraordinary when you have someone to tell them to. Grateful that once in my life, I had a love that made lumpia and soup feel like something worth celebrating.

I still love you, Clark. I don't know when or if that will ever fade. But today, I carried that love like a gentle flame instead of a heavy burden. Today, I let it soften me instead of break me.

And maybe that's what healing is, not forgetting, not erasing, but learning to live with love in gentler ways.

Always,
Alyssa (Phineas, Arlo, Fifi, and Mang)

Last updated on:2025-09-29T21:25:04+05:30