At first, people are everywhere. The messages come in constantly. People drop off food, call to check in, ask if you need anything. Your phone lights up all the time. People show up even when they don’t really know what to say.
And then, little by little, it starts to change.
People go back to their routines. Conversations turn to weekend plans, work, something funny someone’s kid did. Group chats that once checked in on you start talking about vacations and birthdays again. People make plans for next month and next year.
Life starts moving again.
For them.
And maybe that’s when you really begin to notice just how different your life is now.
Because you’re watching everyone else get back to normal when your normal doesn’t exist anymore. Something happened that changed your entire life, and yet the world around you keeps going. People have things to look forward to. Places to go. Plans to make. And you’re still trying to understand how life can look so normal around you when nothing feels normal anymore.
The messages slow down. People don’t ask as often. Your loved one’s name doesn’t come up as much as it used to.
And you notice.
You notice when it’s been a while since someone has asked how you’re really doing. You notice when you’re the one who brings up their name. You notice when you almost say something about them and then stop because you don’t know if anyone wants to hear it again.
Sometimes you stare at your phone and think about reaching out, but you don’t even know what you would say. Because how many times can you tell someone you still miss them? How many times can you say you’re having a hard day? How many times can you say that this is still hard when it feels like everyone else expects it to be a little less hard by now?
That’s the loneliness people don’t always see.
It’s not only missing the person you love.
It’s watching everyone else’s life continue while you’re still trying to figure out what yours looks like without them.
And sometimes, the silence that follows is deafening.
If these words connected with you, you’ll find many more like them in What Remains. It’s a collection of the writings I’ve shared over the years, bringing together reflections on grief, love, loss, and the connections that continue long after someone is gone.
I hope it brings you comfort, understanding, and the reminder that you’re not alone.
If you’d like to read more, you can find the book here
Available now on Amazon
Yea, you can feel that they are getting tired of your sob stories. I texted my brother once about my boy, he did not reply at all. I guess what can I expect him to say or do? He has done his best to help me within his means.
Everyone's life moved forward except mine, stagnant and moving backward.
Even the plants I tried to grow are not blooming and dying.
Hope is not for people like us whose child passed on and never will be.