You miss them tonight.
Maybe more than usual.
Nights are like The that.
house gets quiet...
and there's room for all of it.
You don't have to stop missing them.
Not to rest.
Not tonight.
Whatever you feel right now...
you're allowed to feel it here.
Sad.
Angry.
Numb, even.
It's all welcome.
Let your head rest on the pillow.
Maybe it's the side they slept on.
Maybe it isn't.
Listen to the rain on the window.
It's not asking you to feel better.
It's just keeping you company.
For the next six minutes...
you don't have to be okay.
You probably tried hard today.
To act normal.
You answered people at work.
You said "I'm fine" more than once.
Maybe you didn't check their page.
Or maybe you did.
That's okay too.
Maybe you saw something funny.
And reached for your phone to tell them.
Then remembered.
That little drop in your stomach.
It happens a lot, early on.
It doesn't mean you're doing this wrong.
That takes a lot out of a person.
Holding it together all day.
You can stop holding now.
Nobody's watching.
The lights are off.
It's just you.
Let your face do whatever it wants.
If tears come, let them.
The pillow can take it.
If they don't come, that's fine too.
However it comes is fine.
Take a breath in...
And let it out...
slow and uneven, if that's how it comes.
Now find where it hurts.
In your body, I mean.
For a lot of people...
it's right in the center of the chest.
A tight, heavy spot.
Or it's in the throat.
Like a swallow that won't finish.
Wherever it is...
place one hand right on that spot.
Just rest it there.
Feel your palm, warm and light.
The small weight of it.
We're not going to push the ache away.
We're going to give it room.
Breathe in slowly...
and let the breath go around the ache.
Like water around a stone.
And breathe out...
letting the space stay open.
In again...
a little more room.
And out...
the ache is still there.
But it's not so squeezed.
You loved someone.
That's why it hurts.
The ache is part of that love.
It's allowed to stay a while.
Breathe in...
around it.
And out...
softening at the edges.
Keep your hand there.
Like you'd hold a friend's waiting hand...
in a room.
No words needed.
Just stay.
If a memory of them comes up...
their laugh...
the way they said your name...
let it drift
by.
You don't have to hold it.
Or push it out.
It can come and go.
Let your hand get heavy.
It can slide to the blanket.
Your body knows you stayed.
The ache is a little softer now.
Or maybe just a little quieter.
Either way...
you can rest next to it.
Like lying beside a sleeping dog.
The rain runs down the glass.
Slow lines, one after another.
Your chest rises...
and falls.
Breathing in...
And out...
You are allowed to rest tonight.
Even with a sore heart.
It won't always feel like this.
But tonight, it does.
And that's okay.
Let the rain keep watch.
You can close your eyes.
Goodnight.