There is regret. So much regret.
The simplest thing can set it off. A comment about a band on Facebook. He liked that band. He wanted you to like that band, but you shut it down. Now, whenever you hear that band’s very distinctive sound, you think of him, and your heart aches.
It must’ve hurt, the way you expressed disdain for the band he wanted you to like. You knew, and he knew, you weren’t really expressing disdain for the band. The band is pretty good. You were expressing disdain for him and his opinions. Where did the disdain come from? You don’t know. It will take years to find out. And, as you find out incrementally, ever so slowly, much too slowly, your heart will ache some more.
You danced in his living room to one of the band’s songs. He wanted you to hear it. It reminded him of you. You danced slow and close and felt nothing at all. You liked the song okay, and you said so. You didn’t ask why it reminded him of you. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t feel anything at all. He held you tight and you danced and you felt nothing.
You feel guilty sometimes about the fact that you don’t miss him. You think you should miss him, but you don’t. You don’t feel much of anything when it comes to him, except the occasional regret when a certain band is mentioned or is played on your Pandora station.
Sometimes you tell yourself that you don’t miss him because he didn’t give you much to miss. Sometimes you admit to yourself that he gave it, but, for whatever cosmic reason, you didn’t receive it.
At these times you pull up the song and listen to it and cry. Now you feel something.