Don Williams – I’m Getting Good At Missing You: The Bittersweet Mastery of Living with a Hollow Heart
There is a deceptive simplicity in the music of Don Williams, a quiet strength that suggests a man who has mastered his own emotions, even when they threaten to overwhelm him. Released in 1975 as the lead single from his third studio album, You’re My Best Friend, “I’m Getting Good At Missing You” climbed to No. 2 on the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart, cementing Don’s status as the “Gentle Giant” of Nashville. For those of us who have lived through the decades, this song is a poignant reminder of a time when country music was a soft place to land, a mirror reflecting the silent endurance of the human spirit.
For the mature listener, this track resonates with a truth that only age can provide: the realization that grief and longing eventually become a routine, a familiar coat we put on every morning. Don Williams doesn’t sing about the wild, frantic desperation of a new loss; instead, he explores the “practice” of absence. It is a song for those who have spent years navigating the quiet corridors of a home that feels a little too large, or for those who have learned to find a strange sort of comfort in the memories that refuse to fade.
The story behind the song is a classic example of the collaboration that defined the golden era of country songwriting. Written by the legendary Solomon Charles, the lyrics were elevated by Don’s unparalleled ability to inhabit a feeling. In 1975, as the world was speeding up, Don insisted on slowing down. He understood that a man of dignity doesn’t let his voice crack; he lets the resonance of his baritone carry the weight of his words. This song became an anthem for the stoic, for those who “get good” at the things they never wanted to learn in the first place—like living without the one person who made the world make sense.
The lyrical depth of “I’m Getting Good At Missing You” lies in its admission of unintended expertise. When he sings about how the “tears don’t flow as fast as they used to,” he isn’t saying the pain is gone; he’s saying he has integrated it into his soul. There is a profound, albeit weary, nostalgia in the line, “I’m getting good at missing you, but I’m not good at being alone.” It captures that universal human contradiction: we can adapt to the heartache, but we can never truly reconcile with the solitude.
To listen to this track today is to appreciate the understated elegance of a bygone era. The arrangement is clean, anchored by a steady rhythm and the warm, wooden tone of an acoustic guitar. It is a song that invites you to sit back, close your eyes, and acknowledge the scars you’ve earned with grace. Don Williams reminds us that while we may become experts at living with loss, the love that caused it remains a sacred part of who we are.