I am not gone—

I have only stepped into a softer light,

where the air hums with peace and the hours have no edges.

Do not let the silence feel like absence;

I am stitched into the wind that bends the trees,

into the warmth that rests on your shoulders when the day is kind. 

When you gather at the table, leave a chair for laughter—

I will sit there, in the echo of your voices,

in the stories that rise like bread in the oven.

If tears come, let them fall like rain

that feeds the roots; I am the green that grows after,

the bloom you did not expect in the corner of the yard.

Love does not end— it only changes rooms.

And when your own door opens, I will be there,

arms wide, as if no time had passed at all.