After
The silence is what breaks me. Not just the absence of your voice, but the absence of all the small sounds that meant you were here—your coffee cup clicking against your teeth in the morning, the rustle of newspaper pages, the way you'd hum off-key in the shower.
Emma asks when you're coming home for three weeks straight, and each time it's like swallowing glass to explain again that you're not. That heaven doesn't have visiting hours. That missing someone doesn't bring them back, no matter how much it feels like it should.
I sleep on your side of the bed now, pressing my face into your pillow until your scent fades completely. I can't decide if I want to wash the sheets or keep them forever, this last physical proof that you were real, that we were real.
Your mother brings casseroles and stays too long, talking about how "he's in a better place now" until I want to scream that the better place was here, with us, fixing Emma's bicycle and kissing my neck at 6:47 PM. But I nod and say thank you because I know she's drowning too, just in her own way.
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Missing, loving, healing.
They all take time.
They all happen in their own way, at their own pace.
Life Is Just For Living is a guide to help you through that process. It's an online self-paced course with videos, activities, readings, music, and meditations. If you’re ready to find a way to keep loving without being broken by the missing, Life Is Just For Living will walk with you—one step, one breath, one day at a time. Here's the link -
https://drhtheconfidencebuilder.com/life-is-for-living-sales-page/
Dr H
Cultivating confidence and quiet power
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