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10 Days Without You


It's been 10 days since you left, and I still can't believe you're gone. Every time I go downstairs in the middle of the night, my eyes still search for you, just like they always did when I was working the night shift. For a split second, my mind still expects to see you there. But now, all I see is Mama sleeping alone on the same bed where you took your last breath.

What confuses me the most is that I still haven't cried the way I thought I would. Even on the day of your interment, the tears never really came. While everyone around me was grieving so openly, I felt like I was just moving through the motions—doing what needed to be done, making arrangements, taking care of things.

And now that everything has quieted down, I find myself wondering if there's something wrong with me. Does the absence of tears mean I loved you less? Did I not care enough?
Deep down, I know that's not true. Maybe I'm still in shock. Maybe my heart is carrying more than it knows how to release. All I know is that your absence is everywhere. In the empty space you left behind. In the silence downstairs. In seeing Mama alone. In all the little moments when I instinctively look for you, only to remember that you're no longer here.

I don't know what I'm feeling. I'm still trying to understand a world that no longer has you in it.
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