Life After Loss

Life doesn’t pause—it shifts its shape,

It doesn’t heal, it learns to drape

Soft silence over empty chairs,

And plants new flowers in the tears.

The laughter now is not as loud,

But still it lives beneath the cloud.

We carry on with quieter feet,

In streets where memories repeat.

You don’t forget—you just become

A version shaped by what won’t come.

You drink your coffee, fold your clothes,

And miss the way the old sun rose.

But somehow, in that daily thread,

You find a way to walk ahead.

Not moving on, not moving fast—

But building peace beside the past.

So “life after” is not the end,

But learning how to softly bend—

To hold the joy, endure the ache,

And love the world, though it may break.