I still watch the door
I still watch the door.
Not because I expect company.
Not because I'm waiting for a package.
I watch it because some part of my heart still believes you'll come walking through it.
Sometimes, without even thinking, I glance toward the entrance when I hear a noise outside.
A car door closing.
Footsteps on the sidewalk.
The sound of a neighbor coming home.
And for one tiny second...
my heart forgets.
It forgets that the leash hasn't moved in months.
That your bowl sits untouched.
That the house no longer echoes with the soft click of your nails across the floor.
Grief is strange that way.
It teaches your mind the truth.
But your heart keeps searching.
Keeps listening.
Keeps hoping.
I still remember how you used to greet me.
The excitement.
The happy dance.
The tail that wagged so hard it seemed to shake your entire body.
No matter what kind of day I had, you made coming home feel like the best part of it.
Now the door opens.
And the silence meets me first.
Some days that silence feels unbearable.
Like an empty room inside my chest.
But other days...
I wonder if maybe you're still here in ways I can't see.
Maybe you're the warmth that brushes past my leg when no one is there.
Maybe you're the feather that appears in my path.
Maybe you're the star that catches my attention on nights when I miss you most.
Maybe love doesn't leave when a body does.
Maybe it simply changes shape.
I like to imagine you somewhere beyond the Rainbow Bridge.
Running through endless meadows.
Young again.
Strong again.
Free from pain.
And every now and then, I imagine you stopping whatever you're doing to look toward your side of heaven...
Watching a gate.
Waiting for someone.
The same way I'm still watching this door.
One day, my sweet friend, neither of us will have to wait anymore.
One day the distance between us will disappear.
And when I finally walk through that last doorway...
I know exactly who will be waiting on the other side.
Until then, I'll keep loving you.
And maybe...
just maybe...
Not because I expect company.
Not because I'm waiting for a package.
I watch it because some part of my heart still believes you'll come walking through it.
Sometimes, without even thinking, I glance toward the entrance when I hear a noise outside.
A car door closing.
Footsteps on the sidewalk.
The sound of a neighbor coming home.
And for one tiny second...
my heart forgets.
It forgets that the leash hasn't moved in months.
That your bowl sits untouched.
That the house no longer echoes with the soft click of your nails across the floor.
Grief is strange that way.
It teaches your mind the truth.
But your heart keeps searching.
Keeps listening.
Keeps hoping.
I still remember how you used to greet me.
The excitement.
The happy dance.
The tail that wagged so hard it seemed to shake your entire body.
No matter what kind of day I had, you made coming home feel like the best part of it.
Now the door opens.
And the silence meets me first.
Some days that silence feels unbearable.
Like an empty room inside my chest.
But other days...
I wonder if maybe you're still here in ways I can't see.
Maybe you're the warmth that brushes past my leg when no one is there.
Maybe you're the feather that appears in my path.
Maybe you're the star that catches my attention on nights when I miss you most.
Maybe love doesn't leave when a body does.
Maybe it simply changes shape.
I like to imagine you somewhere beyond the Rainbow Bridge.
Running through endless meadows.
Young again.
Strong again.
Free from pain.
And every now and then, I imagine you stopping whatever you're doing to look toward your side of heaven...
Watching a gate.
Waiting for someone.
The same way I'm still watching this door.
One day, my sweet friend, neither of us will have to wait anymore.
One day the distance between us will disappear.
And when I finally walk through that last doorway...
I know exactly who will be waiting on the other side.
Until then, I'll keep loving you.
And maybe...
just maybe...
I'll keep watching the door.
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