I used to believe that home was where the heart was. But since my husband passed away last year, the house we built together feels like it’s slowly crumbling around me. My children live abroad now, and while we speak occasionally, I know their lives are full. They have their own families, their own responsibilities. Sometimes, I feel like a distant memory in their busy world.

Teaching has always been my refuge, but even the classroom feels different now. I smile, I engage with my students, but inside, I’m just going through the motions. The laughter and energy of the kids used to uplift me, but now it’s more of a reminder of the joy I can’t seem to reach anymore.

When the school day ends, I come home to an empty house. I try to stay busy—cooking meals I barely eat, watching TV shows I can’t seem to follow—but the silence always creeps back in. I wonder if life will ever feel full again or if this loneliness is my new normal.