This morning, I was having a stolid conversation with my mom about the whereabouts of my puppy, Rosie, who’s recently been whisked away and rendered missing for the past three or four nights between the hours of 11 PM to 7:30 AM. The belief is that my sister’s become addicted to stealing Rosie away at bedtime and having her furry body burrowed beneath her sheets. I’ve seen her shamelessly do it each time; she comes into my pitch-black dark room as I half-sleep. She peels over my bed cover, scoops up Rosie, and walks away. I wake out of  ‘fake sleep’ and yell at her to come back. “What are you doing? Bring her back!” I scream, half-frustrated, half-amused. She disappears from my room quicker than I could relay what had happened.  Then, if we’re lucky, we’ll find little Rosie appear in the morning, walking up her little walk of shame from the dungeon lair of lady Lisa, who lives in the basement. Other times, we’re not so lucky; my mom finds her helplessly sitting at the edge of my sister’s bed, wanting to hop off but afraid of the dark alleyways and passages of my sister’s expansive floor.

I woefully told my mom, “I miss Rosie.” The first night was fine – no more warm, cumbersome little nine-pound body to struggle with while attempting to nestle into a comfortable spot on my bed. Second night was ok – not having to deal with a puppy that’s dissatisfied and constantly walking around in circles trying to find her niche in my blankets, or jumps ship to another bed. But after a few nights, her absence leaves a cold emptiness in my bed. I have no one to cuddle with, no one to provide warmth, or fur to stroke gingerly as I drift off into sleep. I have no one to share in the experience of my bed. My mom, silent, suddenly agreed quickly. “I know, I miss her too.” Then she continued on (in translated Korean), “The absence of something [or someone] is always felt more than its presence.” That seemed to be the colder, dismal reiteration of the adage, “You never know what you have until it’s gone.” She paused for a second and added, “It’s a really sad thing, you know. When someone or something is always there, you never notice it. And then, suddenly, when it’s gone, you realize that something so germane to your life is missing.”

That got me thinking about how much we live our lives, forgetting to appreciate, affirm, or just simply thank the people in our lives. I don’t generally mean “spending time with them” or “talking to them” often – you can talk impersonally to strangers all day, and you can hang out with acquaintances all the time. Little do we realize that our time here on earth is short, and our lives are finite, each with its own time of departure. Excuse the morbid talk, but we never know when our time is, to go, or when our friendships will be uprooted because of circumstances. Nobody is perfect, and each person we hold dear to us comes with a host of problems. But I never want to go on living, regretting not telling someone how much s(he) influenced me. Today, it suddenly struck me, that if all the closest people in my life were to suddenly die in a freak crash or something really horrible, what would I have wanted to tell each person before he or she died? It made me really sad, and truthfully, there is one friend whose echoes in my life have gone unnoticed, often. I take for granted the very reason why I’m friends with her – her unfailing loyalty, her ability to love me generously while peering into the depths of my soul, instead of being put off by my external qualities. She doesn’t take me for my face-value, like most people appear to do. She’s known me for a little short of a decade and sees the high schooler, college student, the various phases, mistakes, and a collection of experiences, hurts, and triumphs; she sees through me and doesn’t even flinch at the things beneath my shiny smile, unlike the new friends I’ve made, who don’t know me beyond last year, and probably don’t appreciate me or know my deep struggles the way she does. She truly appreciates me, despite my shortcomings and failures as a friend. She’s honest and overly kind sometimes. But sometimes, I realize that that is the most a friend can ever dream of – in a society where friendships are ultimately faked, forced, or just too impersonal. She admires me even at my worst, and thinks of me, even when we’re not together. I wonder, what would I do without her in my life?

Have you ever told someone today, how much s(he) has touched your life? Never let the opportunity slip you by. If it comes to mind, speak up. Never be afraid to be a little sappy. Those are the things that stay with people.