I sit by the window, watching the morning sun creep over the horizon. Soon, the school bell will ring, signaling another day filled with students, but here, in this house, there is only silence. It’s been over a year since my husband passed, but it feels like yesterday. Every corner of this home holds pieces of him—memories that soothe and hurt at the same time.

My children, once always nearby, are now far away, living their lives across the world. Our conversations over the phone feel like mere glimpses into their days, never long enough to fill the void. I try to stay strong, but most days, I can’t shake the overwhelming loneliness that settles in once the call ends, and the quiet returns.

As a school teacher, my days are busy with lessons, laughter, and the noise of students. But when the final bell rings and I walk home through streets filled with families, I feel the weight of being alone. I never thought life would turn out this way—without my husband, without my children nearby, just me, trying to find a way through the emptiness that follows me everywhere.