28/04/2026
The boat drifts slowly across the still water,
no clear direction, no urgency,
just moving because that’s
what it was made to do.
I think that’s how it begins—
a sudden shift you can’t prepare for,
a moment that divides everything
into before and after.
Then comes the long stretch,
where nothing feels settled,
where you’re learning how to exist
in a world that doesn’t feel the same.
But no one talks about the rest,
the quiet, endless continuation,
where grief doesn’t leave,
it simply changes its shape.
It sits beside you in ordinary moments,
in the way you pause without reason,
in the spaces where someone’s absence
feels more present than anything else.
And still, like this small boat,
you keep moving forward,
not because you’ve figured it out,
but because stopping was never an option.
So you drift, you adjust, you carry,
and somehow, without noticing when,
you learn how to live with the water
instead of fighting against it.
—Silent Tears for You