grief

They say — everything heals with time,

That wounds will fade, that scars will soften,

That the ache will loosen its hold,

Like seasons turning, heat to cold.

I say — grief is different. 

It doesn’t leave. It learns to live beside you. 

It rearranges the furniture of your chest,

Sits quietly in the empty chair at dinner,

Breathes in the spaces you thought you’d filled.

It hits you randomly in the middle of something.

It weaves another world of phantism.

A world where everything is the same.

He's there, living, eating, working, sleeping and enjoying with us.

Suddenly —

Reality hits.

Time doesn’t erase it. 

Time teaches it to be gentle. 

Time teaches me to carry it without breaking.

So I don’t wait for it to disappear. 

I wait for the day I can hold it 

And still laugh. Still breathe. Still love. 

And call that healing.