There are days when I feel like I’ve shattered

 There are days when I feel like I’ve shattered

into a hundred quiet pieces.
Grief does that—
it breaks you open
in places you never knew were vulnerable.

And losing you…
it wasn’t just a crack.
It was a fault line
running through the deepest parts of me.

But here’s the strange, beautiful thing
I never expected to learn:
Even broken hearts
never stop loving.

I still feel you in every fracture—
in every tremble of memory,
in every soft ache that rises
when I see your leash
or brush against the spot where your bed once was.

You didn’t take love with you.
You left it behind.
You left it in the corners of this home,
in the rhythm of my days,
in the parts of me you helped heal
long before you ever left this earth.

Yes, I am broken.
But I’m broken because I loved deeply,
and because you loved me back
with a purity so rare
it carved itself into my soul.

Some nights,
when the grief feels too heavy,
I close my eyes and let myself remember—
your warm breath,
your gentle paws,
the way you looked at me
like I was your whole world.

And in those moments,
I realize something soft and sacred:

A heart that’s been broken by love
doesn’t lose its strength.
It becomes a vessel
that carries that love forward,
holding it tenderly
in all the places where pain once lived.

You changed me.
You shaped me.
You made me better.
And even though you’re no longer here
to press your head into my chest
and remind me that I’m loved—
I still feel it.

I still feel you.

Broken, yet still loving.
Hurting, yet still grateful.
Empty, yet still full of everything you left behind.

And one day,
when my heart finally settles into peace,
I know you’ll be there—
tail wagging, eyes shining—
ready to show me that nothing was ever truly lost.

Until then,
I’ll keep loving you
through every broken piece.