Life is a fickle thing, filled with so much gain and loss, love and hate. Just now, I was thinking about a few old friends—a few who have made profound impacts on my life, yet I have not spoken with them in years. My heart still holds a place for them, and occasionally hurts from their absence, but life continues. Since the last time I saw each one, I have made another dear, close friend who is now having a great impact on my life. People come and go, but their influence never quite leaves me. Sometimes I will trip over an old note, written in the hand of my lost loved one and daydream about where they are now, and what they do. I wonder if they are well, happy, successful—and I wonder if they ever think of me, if the loss of my presence in their lives has affected them as much as it has me. Some of them are lost loves, whose passion I will never know again and some are lost friends, whose compassion and insight made me feel like I wasn’t alone in the world. How do we find each other? Why do we find each other and then never speak again?

Recently, I have made a couple of attempts to find those people who have affected me so deeply—to see where they are now, and if they might be interested in catching up sometime. Sadly, these friends and loves have been either hard to find, or once found, difficult to re-establish contact. Perhaps we have served a purpose in each other’s lives—a purpose that is no longer present. Perhaps there is embarrassment at what happened then, or where they are now. Perhaps they have just moved on and that part I occupied in their heart has been filled. Perhaps I should fill those places as well and move on. Perhaps I will just continue daydreaming.