Since my husband passed away last year, life has been unbearably quiet. The house, once filled with laughter and his comforting presence, now feels empty and cold. Every morning, I wake up to silence, a stillness that never seems to go away. My heart aches from the loss, and no matter how much time passes, the pain remains fresh.

My children live abroad, and though they call and try to stay connected, the distance makes it feel like they’re worlds away. I miss them deeply, but the warmth of their voices over the phone is never enough to fill the space they left behind. I long for the days when they were here, when our home was full of life and love.

As a school teacher, I pour myself into my work, hoping it will fill the void. I love my students and the energy they bring, but when the school day ends, and I walk out of the classroom, the loneliness returns. I come home to an empty house, and the silence is deafening. Even when I keep myself busy, there’s a constant reminder that I’m alone.

I miss my husband more than words can express. His smile, his laughter, the way he made everything feel okay, even on the hardest days. The nights are the worst. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing for his presence, for the comforting feel of his arm around me. The loneliness is suffocating at times, and I find myself wondering how I’ll keep going.

My friends try to help, inviting me out, but it’s hard to fully share what I’m feeling. I often feel like I’m drifting through life, just trying to make it through each day. I’m unsure how to move forward, unsure how to live with this heavy sadness and overwhelming solitude. I know I have to keep going—for my children, for my students—but most of all, for myself.

I pray for strength, hoping that one day I’ll find peace. But for now, it’s hard. Life feels like an uphill battle, and I’m just trying to survive one step at a time.