I miss you a little, I guess you could say: a little too much, a little too often, and a little more each day.

It's difficult missing someone. Whether you're apart for one day or one year, by death or distance - it's difficult. You just want them back but you sort of know you can't. All you can really do is focus on the good memories that make you smile because that's what keeps the happiness alive, I think that's the most important thing to do when you're missing someone, or something.

There are two people I miss the most: My mom and my best friend Gemma. On October 20th 2010 Gemma boarded a plane to Australia with only a one way ticket. I remember my mom telling me she'd found me a pen pal to correspond with so that I could finally get my own letters in the mail like everyone else in the house but when she said it was Gemma I suddenly never wanted a pen pal ever because Gemma can't leave, no she mustn't. She returned for Christmas last year on a two month holiday, fitting in my birthday and new years as well. For the first time (in foreveeeerrrr) in five years we got to hug again. It felt so surreal seeing her in 3D, holding her and being so physically close to her again. Though the long, long separation strengthened our friendship, it felt so much better to have her close to me again.

But since she returned back "home" it seemed like a tease. The world showing us what it was like to be #Gemekah then taking it away again, reducing it back to difficult time zone differences, the pain of the many miles between us and internet restricted communications. Nevertheless I am so grateful for our little infinity (how John Green of me) I really am. I'm eager for the day the money finds itself in the hands of a flight institution, bringing us back together again in one country or another. It's comforting to know that we can jump on a plane at any given moment and spend as much time as we like under the others roof, it brings a peace of mind that it doesn't have to be like this forever. The pain is just love stretched out like an elastic band, though I'm scared it might snap I know that there's enough love there to strengthen the connection.

It's different when you miss someone who has passed away though. Much different. Because you know you can't text them or call them, knowing they'll reply when they wake up. You can't get on a plane because they're not anywhere. Only a fluffy could if that's what heaven is - if that place exists. And even then, no shuttle will take you there. There's no elastic band of love because they're not there to hold the other end. It gets all a bit one sided really.

When Gemma told me she'd land in England a couple days before my 17th birthday I felt so relaxed. My best friend, my rock, will be here for me on my mom's first anniversary. I got to hug my best friend on my 17th birthday, the day I didn't want to come around because it was also my mom's first anniversary. That was the biggest comfort. I began missing my mom when she first went into hospital overnight, a speck of my brain knowing she probably wouldn't come back home. And when I knew she was holding on for longer than those "two days" until my birthday, I got scared. Scared people would remember the 25th of November as "Lisa's Day" and not mine. It happened. But I'm so glad she was there.

And so my heart aches everyday for my mother and my sister. Taken from me in two different ways. But aside from my losses, I'm thankful to have loved and lost than never loved at all. And I still love them both with all I've got, with every moment. My two most favourite ladies.