I miss Mary Ellen’s laugh: always loud and unrestrained, occasionally embarrassing but always sincere.
I miss Steve’s work ethic and child-like enthusiasm.
I miss Delle’s wisdom and impressive spirituality.
I miss John’s calm assurances.
I miss Dennis’ constant flirting.
Right after a friend dies, you’re numb and angry and inconsolable. Later, when the grief is less raw – more like a scab – that’s when little things pop into your head. It might be a memory of something the two of you did together, or a conversation late at night. It might be a physical trait or a personality quirk. Every time you think of them, that one special thing is what you remember.
Whatever it is, it’s probably the thing you admired – and miss – the most about your friend.
What do you miss the most about your friend?
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