Ask Me About Them

Here’s what I need you to know.

You won’t remind me of my loss by bringing them up. I haven’t forgotten. They’re with me every minute of every day — there is no reminding me of something I never stop thinking about.

So, ask me.

Ask me what they were like. Ask me what made them laugh. Ask me the story I’ve told a hundred times and let me tell it again.

Say their name. Please. Everyone else avoids it now, like the name itself might break me. But the silence is what breaks me. The silence makes it feel like they never existed at all.

And when you ask — mean it.

Don’t ask and then check your phone. Don’t ask and wait for your turn to talk.

Ask like you actually want to hear it. Then sit with me while I answer, even if I cry, even if you don’t know what to say. You don’t need the right words. You just need to stay.

Because when you let me talk about them, you’re telling me they still get to exist. That they’re still part of the world. That I’m not the only one keeping them alive.

There is no greater gift you can give me.

If you’ve enjoyed my writing here, What Remains brings together many of my most meaningful pieces in one place. It’s a collection of writings about grief, love, loss, and the lasting connections that remain.

Available now on Amazon