My husband passed away last year, leaving a void in my life that feels impossible to fill. We had been married for over three decades, sharing countless memories and building a life together. Now, all that remains is a quiet house and echoes of the past. To make matters more difficult, my children live abroad, far from my reach. Though they call and visit when they can, the distance feels insurmountable, especially on days when all I need is a warm hug or a familiar voice.

I’ve thrown myself into my job as a nurse, often taking extra shifts just to keep my mind occupied. The hospital is bustling and chaotic, with patients and colleagues always needing something from me. In many ways, my work gives me purpose—it’s where I feel needed and useful. But the long hours take their toll, and when I finally return home, the stillness is almost unbearable.

Walking through the door to an empty house each night feels like stepping into a vacuum. There’s no one waiting for me, no one to share stories about my day. I sit down at the kitchen table, sometimes too exhausted to eat, and stare at the photos on the walls. They remind me of the life I once had, filled with laughter, love, and companionship.

The nights are the hardest. As much as I try to fill my days with work and responsibilities, there’s no escaping the loneliness when the world quiets down. I know I need to find a way to navigate this new chapter of my life, but without a close support system, the path ahead feels daunting and uncertain. For now, I take it one day at a time, hoping for brighter tomorrows.