Visit Me Sometimes

i saw you in my dreams last night,

after months of praying for a sign

that you were at peace on the other side.

you didn’t say much —

just smiled the way you used to

like the world hadn’t changed,

like time didn’t come

and

swallowed

us

whole.

we didn’t speak of the end,

or the grief that bloomed in your absence

or even your reasons for your actions,

we just sat —

quiet,

like the silence knew how to hold us

better than words ever could.

i wanted to ask if it still hurts,

where you are.

if the burdens you carried

followed you into the light

or if you finally laid it down

besides heaven’s gates

and walked in free.

but i was afraid

that naming the pain

might break the spell,

might pull me back

into the cruel reality

that’s called life

and your absence

is louder here

than any storm i’ve weathered

so i stayed silent,

clinging to the stillness between us,

like it was sacred —

like having you near

just a little longer

means the world to me.

your eyes said everything

your mouth never did,

soft with forgiveness,

but steady with peace.

no blame or shame

just love —

the kind that outlives

even death.

you reached for me,

and though our fingers didn’t touch,

I felt something lift —

a weight I didn’t know I still carried,

the ache of not knowing

now met with

a quiet kind of knowing.

i blinked

and morning came.

you were gone again.

but the air felt different —

lighter, almost.

like you’d passed through

long enough to remind me

that it’s okay to continue living.

so visit me sometimes,

even if it’s only in dreams.

i’ll keep the door unlocked,

the porch light on,

and the quiet ready for you.

no questions,

no goodbyes —

just the hush of memory

and the warmth of knowing

you’re never too far

from home.