After you died, the world kept turning, and that was the first betrayal.
Then came the others. The people who stopped calling. The friends who said, “Let me know if you need anything,” and never meant it. The ones who avoided saying your name because it made them uncomfortable. Every silence, every changed subject, every new photo of people experiencing their happy, non-grief lives... every one hurt.
There were betrayals in my own body too. The way my brain forgot things. The way my heart raced over nothing. The way I couldn’t cry when I wanted to, and then couldn’t stop when I didn’t. Even sleep betrayed me. So did mornings. So did hope.
I kept waiting for the world to notice what had happened, to stop pretending everything was fine. But it didn’t. The world went on turning, and I learned that grief is full of betrayals no one warns you about. You lose your person, and then you lose the version of life that made sense.
If you’ve felt that too, I am so sorry. I am sorry you’re now someone who knows how loss keeps breaking your heart long after the funeral ends. The world won’t ever be the same, but you start to find small things worth staying for. Moments that don’t fix it, but remind you that meaning can still exist in small ways. Hold on, just hold on.
