A phone call,
the weight of unspoken words.
Fourteen years gone,
a father's absence echoing
in the lines of her face.

The journey home,
a heart already knowing.
Stoicism, a shield,
not for grief, but for duty.

Her breath, a shallow whisper.
Sleep, a fragile truce.
A hand in hers,
a flicker of recognition,
a smile through the pain.

A kiss, soft as a feather.
Words, simple and true.
"It's okay, Mom."
"Dad's waiting."
"We love you."

Eyes closing,
a release,
a reunion.
Love given,
love returned,
a memory etched in time.