There is a face to missing. Did you know? It is not always human. It is not always beast. Sometimes it is a cross between them. Sometimes, it is something beyond our imaginations or our knowing. Something only God could know. But it is always alive. One way to know it has come to live inside of you is to become very quiet and listen.
There is a voice to missing. Missing is a low moan. A deep, and terrible howl. It is the song wolves know best.
Missing is a living thing. And when there is enough of it, it becomes a being of its own. It thinks, it acts, it has tantrums, it throws things against the walls, it weeps until it sleeps, and sulks. It sits quietly, in melancholy for hours and days. It waits. And it waits.
It is what it knows how to do best.