02/19/2026
I cry for the life you lived—
for the mornings you stretched in sunlight,
for the quiet loyalty in your eyes,
for the small, ordinary days
that meant everything.
I cry for the way you trusted me,
for the warmth you left
in every room you entered.
But I also cry
for the life you didn’t get to live.
For the years that should have followed,
for the naps we never took,
for the seasons you will never see.
I grieve the birthdays that won’t come,
the slow growing old together,
the gentle fading
that felt so far away.
Grief is not only for what was.
It is for what might have been.
And yet, in all the lives you could have had,
the one you lived
was filled with love.
You were not unloved.
You were not unseen.
I cry because it mattered.
Because you mattered.
For the life you lived,
and the one you didn’t—
I carry them both
inside my heart.
