So how is it that when someone dies you suddenly find yourself thinking about them all the time? Like how much they would love the beautiful sunny morning as you're walking into work or how they would tell you you were crazy for wanting to roam around New York City all day. It's always there lingering in the back of your mind - what he is missing, what would he be thinking, how would he feel. Wouldn't it be great if....wish we could do this...
...and then the world comes rushing in and the thought is but a thought, a fleeting moment in the day. Of course in reality he is missing nothing. I am simply the one missing him.
No one told you when to run...
The sun is the same in a relative way...But you're older
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