My husband passed away last year, and since then, life has felt like an uphill battle. We were married for so long that his presence became the backdrop of my days—a steady, reassuring rhythm I thought would always be there. Now, the house is unbearably quiet, filled only with echoes of memories that both comfort me and break my heart.

To make things harder, my children live abroad. I’m so proud of them for chasing their dreams, but I miss them deeply. Phone calls and video chats help, but they’re no substitute for the warmth of a hug or the sound of laughter around the dinner table. I try not to let them see how much I struggle; I want them to focus on their lives without worrying about me.

As a school teacher, I pour my heart into my work. The kids bring moments of joy and purpose, but once the school day ends, I’m left with an emptiness I can’t seem to fill. I’ve tried keeping myself busy, diving into hobbies or spending time with colleagues, but it’s not the same. There’s a loneliness that lingers, a constant ache that reminds me of everything I’ve lost.

Some days, it feels like I’m just going through the motions—waking up, teaching, coming home, and waiting for another day to pass. I long for something to change, for a spark of connection to remind me that life can still be full and beautiful.

I know healing takes time, but right now, it feels impossibly far away. All I can do is keep moving forward, one small step at a time, and hope that someday, the quiet will feel less heavy, and I’ll find joy in the little moments again.