How Are You?
How are you?
Three words. Such ordinary words.
And somehow,
the hardest question
anyone can ask me right now.
Because I don’t know.
I really don’t know.
What does fine even mean anymore?
Will I ever be fine again?
Or will fine just become
something else?
Something I learn to call fine
because I no longer remember
what it used to feel like.
I wonder if there will ever be a day
when I wake up
and the world feels the way it once did.
Before.
Such a small word.
Such a cruel divide.
There is a before.
And now there is an after.
And I am somewhere in between,
not quite knowing
how to belong to either.
It’s strange.
The things that once felt so big
now feel so painfully small.
The little fights.
The ego battles.
The endless running after money.
The plans.
The worries.
The things we thought couldn’t wait.
And then your heart breaks.
And suddenly,
nothing feels like it deserves
the space it once occupied
in your life.
Because what really matters
when the person you want
to share it all with
is no longer here?
When someone leaves.
Not just someone.
Someone you love.
Someone who is your whole life.
Someone you never imagined
you would have to live without.
Someone whose presence
was so much a part of your existence
that you never even noticed
how much of your world
was held together by them.
Until it wasn’t.
And suddenly,
there is this emptiness.
A vacuum.
As though someone has quietly
taken the air out of everything.
The house is still there.
The rooms are still there.
The world is still moving.
People are laughing.
Cars are passing.
The sun rises.
The day ends.
Everything continues.
And I don’t understand
how it can.
How can the world
just keep going
when mine has stopped?
There are moments
when I almost forget.
Just for a second.
A thought comes.
Something happens.
Something I want to tell you.
And for that one tiny moment,
you are still here.
And then I remember.
And I lose you
all over again.
I think that’s the part
no one prepares you for.
It’s not just losing someone once.
It’s losing them
in a hundred little ways,
every single day.
In the conversations
that will never happen.
In the questions
I didn’t know I still had.
In the ordinary things
I never thought
I’d have to remember
instead of live.
And people say,
Time heals.
But right now,
time feels cruel.
Because every day that passes
is another day
since I last saw you.
Another day
since I heard your voice.
Another day
since you were here.
And I don’t want
to get further away
from a world
that still had you in it.
I don’t want the last time
to become a distant memory.
I don’t want to forget
the sound of your voice.
The little things you said.
The way you existed
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so effortlessly
in my life.
They say,
Distract yourself.
Keep busy.
Go out.
Do something.
Get back to life.
But what if
I don’t want to be distracted?
What if being busy
feels like pretending?
What if I don’t want
to fill this silence
with noise?
Because this emptiness,
as unbearable as it is,
is also where I still feel you.
And some days,
I’d rather sit with the ache
than pretend
it isn’t there.
I miss you.
Such small words
for something
that has taken up
so much space inside me.
I miss you
in ways I don’t know
how to explain.
I miss things
I didn’t even know
I would miss.
I miss the ordinary.
I miss knowing
you were somewhere
in this world.
That even if we weren’t talking,
even if we weren’t together,
you were here.
Just here.
And that was enough.
I didn’t know
how much peace there was
in simply knowing
you existed.
Until you didn’t.
And now,
there are days
when I feel everything.
And days
when I feel nothing.
Sometimes I cry.
Sometimes I can’t.
Sometimes I feel strangely calm,
and that scares me too.
Because how can something
hurt this much
and still feel so unreal?
How can I know
what has happened
and still have a part of me
that doesn’t believe it?
I keep waiting
for something.
I don’t even know what.
Maybe for it to make sense.
Maybe for the heaviness
to lift.
Maybe for one more moment.
One more conversation.
One more ordinary day.
Not even a special one.
Just a day
when you were here
and I didn’t know
how precious that was.
I would give anything
for one more ordinary day.
And perhaps
that’s what grief is.
All this love
with nowhere familiar
to go.
All these memories
that used to be moments.
All these tomorrows
I thought we still had.
I don’t know
how to make peace with that.
And I don’t know
if I want to yet.
Because somewhere
between trying to accept
that you’re gone
and desperately wanting
to hold on,
there is me.
Trying to understand
how to live
in a world
that no longer has you in it.
So when someone asks,
How are you?
I wish I knew
what to say.
I wish there were words
that could hold
all of this.
But there aren’t.
Because I’m here.
And you’re not.
And somehow,
I have to learn
what that means.
Not today, perhaps.
Not tomorrow.
Right now,
I just miss you.
And I wish
you were here.
