You used to email me once a day… what happened? (Commack)

I still remember the way my heart used to lift when I saw your name in my inbox. No matter how short or simple your words were, they had a way of wrapping around me like a warm blanket. They were more than messages — they were proof that I was on your mind, proof that I mattered to you in that moment. Now the silence aches. I open my email and it feels empty, like a room where your laughter used to echo but now only the walls remember. I didn’t realize how much I leaned on those little messages until they stopped. They were my anchor, the quiet reassurance that someone cared enough to reach for me each day. Without them, I feel like I’m drifting. I miss the comfort of your words. I miss knowing that I could carry a piece of you with me throughout the day. I reread the ones I saved sometimes, and they still make me cry — not just because they’re beautiful, but because they remind me of what I’m missing now. I don’t write this to blame you. Please don’t hear it that way. I write this because I miss you so deeply, and because my heart feels the space where you used to be. If something’s wrong, if you’re hurting, or even if life just pulled you away without meaning to — I want to be here for you the way you’ve been here for me. You used to email me once a day. Maybe you didn’t know it, but those small moments were my lifeline. They carried me through lonely nights and heavy mornings. And without them, I feel the quiet too loudly. I just want you to know… I miss you. I miss your words. I miss us.