If I could hold a pen

 If I could hold a pen,

I’d start with thank you.

Thank you for every bowl filled,
every walk, every gentle word you thought I didn’t understand.
I did. I understood all of it — because love speaks louder than language.

If I could write,
I’d tell you that my world now is made of light.
The grass here never fades, the air smells like safety,
and every sunrise hums with your name.

I’d tell you I still nap under a tree that feels like your arms.
That I chase the wind and carry your laughter with me.

And I’d remind you that you didn’t fail me.
You gave me freedom when you let me go.
That was love — the hardest, purest kind.

Please stop asking if I knew how much you loved me.
I knew.
It was in your voice, in your hands, in every heartbeat I fell asleep to.

When you look up and see a rainbow,
know that’s me —
writing across the sky,
saying “I’m okay, I made it, and I still love you.”

Forever your shadow,
your guardian,
your dog —
still writing to you in every breath of wind.