If you were here...

If you were here,

I think the world would feel a little less heavy.

There are so many things I want to say, but silence fills the space where your voice used to be. I reach for memories like they are lifelines—moments frozen in time, reminders of laughter, of warmth, of the way your presence made everything feel more bearable.

If you were here, I would tell you how much I miss your steadiness, your way of seeing me even when I couldn't see myself. I would tell you that the days are longer without your light in them, but somehow, I still find pieces of you in the smallest things: in music, in the wind, in the way the sky turns soft just before night.

You always knew how to calm the storm in me. If you were here, I think I could breathe easier. I could sit beside you and just... be. No need for answers or fixes. Just presence. Just love.

But you're not here. And that absence echoes.

Still, I carry you with me. In the way I try to be kind. In the way I listen. In the way I remember to look up when the stars appear.

If you were here, I’d say thank you. For loving me. For shaping me. For being.

And even though you're not, I hope somehow you still know.