Grief isn’t always loud.
Sometimes it’s a canceled plan, a quiet movie, a soft goodbye.
This poem is for the days that don’t unfold as expected,
When healing hides in the stillness, letting go means staying home.

I’m not healed, but I’m softer.
Not waiting, just wondering.
If he ever finds me,
let it be without urgency.
Let it feel like peace, not rescue,
like recognition, not pursuit.