When They Ask How I'm Doing

Dear You,

Someone reached out today.

She asked how I’ve been.. said she hadn’t seen my usual comments, my random posts. She used to look for them, just to make sure I was okay. But lately, I’ve been quieter. So she messaged me.

I didn’t know how to answer.

How do I explain that life has changed in a way that words can’t really hold? That ever since you’ve been gone, everything is… different.

Not unlivable. Just… quieter. Flatter. Less golden around the edges.

I still laugh. You’d be proud. I haven’t forgotten how. I still get through the day. Still tick things off the list. But the joy doesn’t feel the same without you here to share it with. It doesn’t reach as deep. It’s surface-level now like a song missing its melody.

You used to be in every part of my day. In the way I made decisions. In the way I felt safe. In my routines, in my chaos, in the little things. Now, it’s like walking through a familiar place that doesn’t quite belong to me anymore.

I don’t post much these days, not because I’ve disappeared but because I’m still figuring out how to exist in this new space. Still learning how to carry your memory in one hand, and keep moving with the other.

But today reminded me: people notice. They care. And that matters.

So, if you're listening — somewhere between the stars or tucked into the spaces I still speak your name — know this:

I’m still here.

Still trying.

Still finding my way without you.

Day by day.

Step by step.

With love. Always.

— Me