--
title: "Writing to the Version of Them You Miss"
description: "A shorter take: you are missing one version of them, so name the year, write one small scene, and let the memory sit in its own frame."
tags: ["memory","grief","letter-writing","stillhere"]
canonical_url: https://stillherememory.com/blog/writing-to-the-version-of-them-you-miss
People say they miss someone, but what returns is usually narrower. A particular age, a particular house, the years when one thing was still true. You are not missing the whole person. You are missing one version of them.
That is good news, because it tells you where to start. Put the year in the first line, not as a label but inside a sentence. The summer you were twelve. The months before the diagnosis. One clause gives the rest of the entry somewhere to sit.
Then write to that person, in the second person, about one small scene. Not a summary of a life, just one moment. If the scene will not come, start with the room and let them walk in.
Naming the year does the opposite of what people fear. It does not turn the entry into a history report. It gives the scene a frame, and the scene does the work.
Three patterns repeat in what people write. The version from the year you needed them most, often not the year they died. The version from before the illness or the move. The version you only saw in one place, the kitchen or the car.
Writing about one version is not dishonest. A life holds several, and the one you reach for today is a real part of the record. And when the version is a hard one, the years of arguing or the parent who let you down, that one belongs here too. An entry is not a tribute. It is a place to put what was true.
StillHere is a quiet, private space to keep what you want to keep about someone. If the first line will not come, start with "what to say first."
Top comments (0)