There’s a kind of quiet that follows certain goodbyes.

Not the kind that signals rest —
but the kind that hangs in the space where presence used to be.
Where laughter echoed just an hour ago.
Where tiny feet ran from room to room.
Where arms wrapped around my neck like they never wanted to let go.

And then, in an instant, it’s quiet again.

When I leave my heart behind,
I hold my breath until I get it back.

Not because I don’t trust.
Not because I’m falling apart.
But because love this deep —
the kind you carry in your bones —
doesn’t know how to exhale when part of you is missing.

Still, I’m learning…

How to breathe in the waiting.
How to find peace in the pause.
How to let the ache be evidence of love — not lack.
How to trust that what God holds, He holds well.

Some days feel heavier than others.
Some goodbyes stretch a little longer.
Some quiets echo a little louder.

But even here,
in this space between letting go and holding on again —
there is grace.

Anchor Verse:
“The Lord watches over you—the Lord is your shade at your right hand.”
Psalm 121:5 (NIV)