It’s been a while since I really sat down and reflected on one of life’s toughest lessons—one that’s both painful and profoundly transformative. In our 20s, we start to realize a truth that never gets easier: we’re destined to lose people. Some leave abruptly, vanishing without warning. Others slip away so slowly that the loss is felt long before it’s ever final. It can happen over something small—a misunderstanding, a prick of pride. Or it can be something deeper, more jagged: betrayal, heartbreak, or silence that grows so loud it can’t be ignored. I carry with me memories of people I once laughed with, cried with, dreamed with. Those late-night conversations, shared secrets, moments of pure connection—they feel both distant and alive. Some goodbyes were necessary—a way to protect myself. Others were choices I had to make to preserve my peace and nurture my growth. Most of us have that one person. It might be a childhood friend, a former partner, or a relative. Someone we wish we could still talk to. Maybe we don’t know how to reach them anymore. Maybe fear holds us back. Maybe we tell ourselves it’s too late. But here’s what I’ve learned: if your heart is nudging you to reach out—try. Send that message. Make that call. Write that email. If you can, meet face to face. Let your pride rest for a moment and take the risk. If they don’t respond, that silence is an answer too. Yes, it might hurt—but not as much as carrying the weight of what if. As long as the sun keeps rising, there’s still time. And if the door truly closes for good, say what you need to say anyway. Write it down. Whisper it at night. Sometimes, just naming the ache is the first step toward healing.