The Memory Version

One of the signs of maturity is accepting the fact that some people are just not meant to stay forever. They don't have to be some sort of a life lesson either.
They only pass by to become a memory.
A vague memory that fades away with time, but never really disappears.

And whether good or bad, there will always be a little bit of heartbreak. And it will take you some time to mourn their loss and eventually move on.

But here comes the tricky part. You never actually move on. Not completely. Because letting go defies our natural instinct as humans.
We are gregarious creatures. We get attached. Hooked to the people we accidentally stumble upon along the way. And sometimes we don't miss the person at all, but miss the way they made us feel.
We miss feeling our heart skip a beat when they smile because of something we said.
And we miss feeling the same heart ache if we ever hurt them.
We miss the talks, the laughs, the looks..
We miss the perfect version we created of them in our mind. And the perfect life we maybe shared in another parallel universe.
We miss how we saw ourselves around them.

But you know what's really sad?
It's the possibility that they may never know.
They may never know how deeply influential they were, even if they were only a fleeting presence in our life.
They may never know they're the reason for that smile we put on whenever we walk on that specific street, because we remembered something silly they said. Or that they are the reason for that lump we feel in our throat when we realize they're no longer walking beside us.
They may never know that we cherished the few moments we had with them. 
They may never know, and they may not even care.

And what's even sadder?
You don't always get to say goodbye. 
Sometimes it just happens. Out of no where.
One day they're right there up front and center. Next thing you know.. they're not even on the bench.
And you never know why.
Their existence in your life simply withers into a mere memory...
No chance for closure, that is.

We miss them.
And we can't deny that sometimes we wish to see them again, to talk to them one more time.
But we know it won't happen. And even if it did, what are we are going to say?
Will they even be the same people or will we be meeting a totally different version? A version that can possibly ruin whatever was left of them in our heart?

No way to know..
So we settle for the memory.

We hold on to it and the little joy it may bring to our life every now and then.
And we grasp for air every time the heart remembers the pain they left behind.
And we try to move on, even though we know we never will.