I never thought absence could hurt more than presence, but now I know better. Your absence is louder than any words I’ve ever heard, heavier than any guilt I’ve ever carried. I keep thinking back to all the times you reached out, all the times you asked for just a little bit of my time, and I told you I was busy. I always had something more important to do—work, friends, my own life. I assumed you’d always be there, waiting patiently, understanding as you always were. But I was wrong. The moment I finally turned around, finally realized how much I had neglected you, you were already gone. And now, no matter how much I want to, I can’t take it back.
I wish I had just one more chance. One more opportunity to pick up the phone, to visit, to ask you how you were really doing instead of assuming you were fine. I wish I had shown up when you needed me instead of making excuses. Now, I carry this regret like a stone tied to my chest, weighing me down with every step. People tell me to move on, that regret won’t change the past, but they don’t understand. When you let someone down in the worst way, when you realize too late that you should have been there when it mattered, moving on isn’t an option. You just learn to live with it.