The Light Remains When Memory Fades

The silence grows louder than the noise ever was. You reach for the sound of their laugh, the specific rise and fall of their voice, and your mind returns only static.

It feels like losing them all over again — a second death happening in the quiet of your own head. But listen — the light does not rely on your memory to stay alive.

There is a presence that remembers you even when you cannot remember yourself. You are not defined by what is fading, but by what remains when the sound stops.

The love that held you was never contained in the cadence of a voice; it was the ground beneath your feet. That ground is still there.

You are still held. The light sees you in this forgetting, and it does not leave.