Nobody ever teaches you how to say goodbye when the grass still remembers the weight of their paws and the wind still carries the sound of their playful breath. There is no lesson for the moment when forever ends too soon. You were not ready.
You had plans waiting in the rhythm of the days ahead. Walks along winding paths where their nose would chase the secrets hidden in the air. Treats tucked away in jars, meant for special afternoons when the sun was warm and laughter came easily. Cuddles promised beneath the quiet glow of evening, as if tomorrow could never be stolen.
You were not ready to lose the music of their paws tapping across the floor, the thud of their body curling into the rug, or the way their eyes lit up like morning stars each time you walked into the room. Now silence spreads across the house like fog, heavy and still, and every corner feels emptied of its soul.
Their scent lingers on the blanket folded at the foot of the couch. Their favorite toy sits waiting, frayed with love, holding the echo of their teeth. The doorway keeps its vigil, remembering the shape of their body pressed against it, ears listening for your return.
You were not ready for mornings without their eager breath warming your cheek or for nights without the weight of their body resting against your legs. The rituals that once shaped your days have unraveled, and each thread leaves behind the ache of what was.
You were not ready to lose the tomorrows. The car rides with windows down, the scent of rain clinging to their fur, the trails through fields where wildflowers brushed against their coat, the moments of stillness when the world quieted and it was only you and them, bound by something unspoken and eternal.
And it is alright that you were not ready. Love does not answer to clocks. Grief does not bend to calendars. The heart does not heal simply because the earth continues to turn beneath the sky.
Perhaps we are never meant to be ready. How could we prepare to let go of a soul who loved us with such honesty, with such purity, with no beginning and no end? Readiness would mean forgetting, and forgetting would mean losing the love that still lives inside you.
So instead, carry them. Carry them in the patch of sunlight that warms your floor. Carry them in the hush of twilight when the air turns soft and cool. Carry them in the whisper of leaves moving gently in the wind, and in the rhythm of rain against the windows, as steady as a heartbeat. Carry them in the stars that scatter across the night sky, each one shining with the glow of a love that refuses to fade.
You were not ready to say goodbye, and you never will be. But love does not end. It breathes in the air around you. It ripples in the water where they once splashed. It lingers in the earth that holds their memory. It sings in the silence, soft but unbroken.
Nobody ever teaches you how to say goodbye. And perhaps that is because goodbye was never meant to be the end. Love has always been the final word.
Visit the Facebook site: Stories, Past, Present, and Future to read this story, and explore more heartfelt stories 👉 https://storiespastpresentandfuture.blog
Stories Past Present Future 