“الحنين وجع لا يحن إلى وجع. هو الوجع الذي يسببه الهواء النقي القادم من أعالي جبل بعيد.. وجع البحث عن فرح سابق..”
~ محمود درويش – في حضرة الغياب
The word Nostalgia has such magic to it; it’s bitter sweet both in meaning as in pronunciation.
We miss people who are no longer there the most when we go through days where we could have used their presence; when we are desperate for their presence. It’s not that we don’t miss them every day on normal days, we probably do, but our conscious knows better than to let it surface, so it locks that feeling in our subconscious until those moments of nostalgia occur.
The dead are the worst to miss. Not just because they are no longer there, but also because we tend to give them a sense of sanctity after they’re gone. We remember only their virtues and somehow convince ourselves they hold on to wisdom that would have solved our current dilemmas or soothed our agony. Ironically, their death is the secret of their wisdom.
The dead are the worst to miss. Because as we remember them, they never let us down, either because we didn’t hold on to such memory, or because they passed away before they got the chance. Both way, their memory remains painfully untainted and it’s summoned every time we’re let down.
The dead are the worst to miss. Because missing them is a dead-end to the pain we feel, where we linger.