Home Without You

I wish love had hands strong enough to hold you here, I wish tears could rewrite endings, I wish God would reconsider silence. I wish it was a mistake I could wake up from. I still see you in fragments— your smile folding into morning light, your voice hiding in the walls, your laughter refusing to die completely. You used to look at me like I was tomorrow, even when I was just trouble asking for money and calling it love. If anyone had said you’d leave like this, I would have defended you with everything in me— “I know my mother, she doesn’t break, she promised me time.” But promises don’t argue with fate. Now I sit with memories that refuse to grow old, asking questions no sky answers. I prayed until my words forgot how to speak, but heaven stayed quiet in a way that hurt. And now the world calls you “gone,” but my heart still reaches for you like you’re just in the next room pretending not to hear me. I wasn’t ready, Mum. I wasn’t ready to learn that love can stay and still lose. I was still planning tomorrow with you in it. Now I am left with the echo of you— and I call that echo home. Till we meet again… ❤️