What I miss is what seems everyday to my eyes. 
Relationships disappear first, the furniture and the colors of the wall next. The garden where I walk, the book shops that I visit too. 
When did I see? 
The first time? 
The first time I see an object I see the appearance, compare it to the object seen before, recognize it and name it. If it requires touch, I touch it or smell or taste as the case maybe.
The first time viewing is relative, it may require a second or some time and that is the start of missing it, because of constant seeing. 
Relationships too are like objects. Although they can't be touched and smelled except in poetry or romance, their immediateness of sensation is lost  as the object becomes everyday.
Sleeping, waking and pursuing too are missed. The anger that gets built in, the build up of frustration that follows through because of missing the entire process of life, which after some years becomes an everyday affair of living but never ever treated as one. Some hope still lies in if this everyday affair is treated like one in its actuality.