In quiet moments, I glance back, a warmth that lingers in faded breaths, fragments of laughter and whispered dreams, echoing in the spaces where I once stood. I watch familiar faces, their smiles touched by sorrow, hands that reach yet tremble, grasping at shadows left behind. Time stretches thin, a threadbare fabric of memories, each stitch a reminder of what was, and what can never be again. They gather, sharing pieces of me, stories wrapped in comfort, each word a small act of defiance against the silence that swallows. In their tears, I find a mirror— a reflection of love, heavy yet beautiful, a testament to a life lived. And though I’ve slipped through that door, they carry me within— a silent witness, a tender ache, forever woven into the heart of the living.