Waiting for Goodbye

“My wife died six months ago… but she’s still here.” It started small — her perfume in

the hallway, her music box playing at night. I thought it was grief

Then I woke up to someone breathing next to me. The bed dipped — like she sat down.

I said her name… and the air went still. This morning, her wedding ring

was on my pillow I buried that ring with her. The cemetery swears no one’s been near

her grave. I don’t think she’s trying to hurt me. I think she’s waiting for something… maybe

for me to let her go How do you tell the person you love it’s okay to leave…

when you’re the one who can’t?