We will all die.
It’s just sad,
the price of living is leaving,
the cost of love is loss.
One day, the phone will ring,
and the world will shift.
A father gone too soon,
a lover buried beneath the weight of memory,
a mother fading into silence.
And we will stand there,
hands empty,
hearts heavy,
wondering how time dared to move forward
when ours just stopped.
Some go fast,
like a whisper stolen by the wind.
Some linger,
fighting a war they were never meant to win.
Some leave behind wreckage,
a father who never made it home,
a lover lost in the wrong place at the wrong time.
We dress grief in black,
wrap it in condolences,
but no words can fill the space
where someone once breathed.
And yet—
we wake up.
We carry their names on our tongues,
we learn to walk with the weight,
because that’s what the living do.
It’s cruel.
It’s inevitable.
And still, we love,
knowing one day,
we too will be the silence
someone else learns to live with.