Not every ending shatters.
Some slip away unnoticed,
like the laughter of friends
you once swore were forever,
or the games you played
until one day your hands
simply forgot how to hold them.

Even the self you thought permanent
fades like an old photograph,
edges softening
until you hardly recognize
who you used to be.

No farewells were spoken.
Just mornings that arrived
without the familiar faces,
without the rituals of yesterday.
And slowly,
you learn you will not return.

But the silence is not empty.
New voices echo there,
new habits root themselves
in soil you didn’t know was waiting.
They fill the hollow,
bright and unexpected,
until they, too, become memories
you will one day set down.

Perhaps life is less about holding on
than it is about loosening our grip,
enough to welcome the next arrival,
enough to let each goodbye
be gentle.