And You're Not Here - Echoes of Absence

Paul

Hello welcome everyone, it’s Paul and Emily from Life Lyrics… uhh, welcome back to the podcast.This is where I take you behind the songs — the little stories, the quiet moments, the emotions that built the music.Today we’re diving into “And You’re Not Here” — a song about absence, memory, and how love lingers even when someone’s gone....

Unknown Speaker

Paul, I feel like we could start nowhere else but that very first line: "The rain is falling, soft and slow." It’s so cinematic, almost like you’ve pulled us right inside this quiet, rainy moment before we even know what's missing. Was that weather—like, the rain—always part of how you saw this song unfolding?

Paul

Uhh, yeah, actually — rain for me has always been, you know, memory’s favorite backdrop. I wrote the song on a night exactly like that… rainy, hush all around, Paris sort of dissolving outside the window. There’s something about rainy nights, they, ahh, they just pull the past out. Sometimes I’ll hear the rain and suddenly I’m just… right back somewhere else, feeling everything all over again....

Unknown Speaker

Ahhh that’s so true ! There’s a comfort to it too, but also this ache. I mean , when I first moved to Paris, I barely knew anyone. And there’d be these endless grey evenings, rain tracing down the glass — honestly, I started writing just to fill the silence. Some nights the only company I had was old memories, old hopes I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again. I think a lot of us, we let the rain help us remember, right?...

Paul

Yeah, absolutely. And, uhh, I think artists always return to atmosphere. The rain, it’s more than just weather — it becomes the room we’re in, emotionally. Like, every droplet is a memory or a feeling we can’t shake. I love how the song starts in that space, gently, so the listener steps straight into longing before there are even any words about who’s missing.

Unknown Speaker

It just sort of... pulls you in by the hand. And, oh, can I say — “the kind of night we used to know” — that lyric gets me every single time. Because it’s not only about what’s lost but about the way a moment gets stamped into you. It’s a sadness, but it’s tenderness too. Rain forgives you for remembering, I think.

Paul

Ohh that’s beautifully put, Em. Uhh, yeah… rain softens everything, the pain and the nostalgia. It lets you sit with it, safely, just long enough to figure out what you’re truly missing.

Unknown Speaker

So then you carry us into that line in the chorus—"Your absence echoes every day." I mean, that’s not just missing someone. That’s their absence having a presence, almost alive, haunting you. Did it always feel that way to you?

Paul

Yeah, definitely. I’ve always thought... absence isn’t a void, really. It’s more like a shadow. It follows you, sits beside you at lunch, reminds you how loud silence can be. I wanted to get at that—the way absence, once you notice it, is everywhere. It’s the quiet air. It’s, you know, the echo left in the hallway when you get home and nobody’s there.

Unknown Speaker

And the photographs—oh, the lyrics about tracing smiles in old pictures. I feel like we all do that, but it’s almost—painful, right? Those old moments start to look faded, like, you want to step inside but you can’t. There’s a comfort in those photos, but it hurts you, too.

Paul

Ahh Yeah, it’s bittersweet, isn’t it? The song leans into that. I actually wrote that verse while going through some old pictures one night. And you’re right—photos, maybe they give us a false sense we can still touch those memories, but they’re always out of reach. Sometimes the longing is so much more real than anything you held onto in the present. It’s like, everything quiet, and then their absence just... fills the whole room.

Unknown Speaker

That line—"the silence screams, it’s all I hear"—oh Paul, that one really hits. It’s so raw! Like, the quiet isn’t gentle, it’s shouting at you for what’s gone.

Paul

Well, that’s it, isn’t it? Some nights, the quiet felt like it was making more noise than any argument, any laughter, any music. I mean—have you ever had that, where you’re almost grateful for the rain outside just so you don’t hear the emptiness?

Unknown Speaker

All the time, actually. It’s funny, in our last episode when we talked about journeys through heartbreak and how music is a sanctuary, I think this is the other side of that coin. Absence can feel like its own, um, overwhelming presence. The memories we keep are both a comfort and, sometimes, what keeps the wound open...

Paul

That’s exactly the paradox I wanted in this song—how the things that heal you can also haunt you.

Unknown Speaker

There’s something about that bridge—"If I could turn back time somehow, I’d hold you close, I’d keep you now"—that just aches with hope and regret together. Like... we all wish we could go back, change an ending. I love how you let yourself, and us, sit with that longing instead of running from it.

Paul

Thanks, Em. Uhh, yeah, I think that hope, even when we know it’s impossible, that’s kind of what makes us human, right? We carry that need to reach back, to hold onto love even if it’s only in memory. This is a song for anyone who’s tried to keep someone close with nothing but the hope that they’re still with you, in some way.

Unknown Speaker

It makes me think of how—like, no matter how many years pass, there’s still a piece of your heart that won’t move on, not really. The way the song ends — “the rain still falls, the world moves on, but in my heart you still belong” — I’m not sure I’ve ever heard healing sound so gentle. It’s almost as if the song says, It’s okay to keep loving someone who’s gone.

Paul

That’s exactly what I hoped for !!!. No matter how much time goes by or how quietly life gets on with it, there’s a... softness in holding love, even if it’s just the echo. I wanted the outro to feel like the rain, still falling, still present, while everything else fades. For listeners who’ve been through loss, I hope it makes the private heartbreak feel a little less lonely—a moment shared, you know, not just endured.

Unknown Speaker

Yeah, and—honestly? Songs like this, they help us turn private grief into something gentle, or even beautiful. It’s like you’ve woven in a thread of hope, barely there, but enough to carry you forward. Maybe we can’t always heal completely, but we can love without letting go.

Paul

Yes exactly !!. That’s what songs like this are for—to give us a quiet space to feel, remember, and hope a little, even when hope feels out of reach.

Unknown Speaker

I think that’s the perfect place to leave it for today, Paul. If you’re listening and this song hit home for you, just know—you’re not carrying it alone. We’ll be back soon, with more stories, lyrics, and hopefully a little more light with each episode. Thanks Paul, as always.

Paul

Thank you, Em. And thanks everyone for tuning in. Take care of your hearts out there. See you next time, Emily—bye for now.