Grief feels endless

 Grief feels endless…

not because you’re gone,
but because the love I carry for you
has nowhere else to go.

You were woven into my routines,
my days,
my comfort,
my heartbeat.
And when you left,
the world didn’t simply “move on.”
It shifted.
It tilted.
It softened in strange, painful places.

Every room still holds your shadow.
Every memory still rises like a warm breath
that suddenly disappears.
And every time I whisper your name,
the ache returns—
gentle, sharp, familiar.

Grief feels endless
because love like ours doesn’t fade.
It doesn’t shrink or vanish.
It keeps beating
even when the paws that inspired it
aren’t here to walk beside me.

Maybe grief isn’t endless after all.
Maybe it’s just love—
still searching for you
in a world that no longer holds your body.

And maybe that’s okay.
Because I was blessed enough
to love you that much.