I think it is a privilege to allow oneself to be missed. I suppose at no point can we control when another thinks about us or what that memory conjures up, but we seem to have the power to decide when we interject our actual presence into the lives from our past. And whether we want to admit it or not that rate at which we interject that presence has a profound effect on the memory.
I'm finding that those who refuse to attempt some effort to force the recollection of memories being to slip away. Each of them consciously or not pushing memories further and further into the abyss of my mind. And like the abyss of the sea there are moments when it seems to spontaneously spring to life with a mysterious light that has no apparent source. It is an effort to cause oneself to be missed, to find a way to call forth an image and longing for yourself, frequently and nostalgically. Oh what a power that exerts, what an influence in the life of another. A power I wish some would make greater use of and others I wish would stop trying, as there effort does little good combined with my effort to forget their attachment to this life.
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