I still hear your steps

 I still hear your steps…

Especially at night.
When the world becomes quiet enough for memories to grow louder than reality.
Sometimes I’m lying in bed and suddenly I swear I hear you walking down the hallway again.
That familiar slow rhythm of paws against the floor.
The soft jingle of your collar following close behind.
And every single time… my heart forgets for one tiny second.
It forgets that goodbye already happened.
I hold my breath and listen.
Hoping.
Wanting.
Needing it to be real.
But the hallway stays empty.
And the silence afterward feels even heavier than before.
Grief is cruel that way.
It gives you little echoes of the life you lost.
Tiny reminders of what home used to sound like.
I never realized how much comfort lived inside your footsteps.
How safe I felt simply knowing you were nearby.
Even on my worst days… there you were.
Following me into the kitchen.
Waiting outside the bathroom door.
Curling up near me like your whole purpose in life was just to make sure I never felt alone.
And somehow… you succeeded.
Because this loneliness now feels impossible some days.
I miss the ordinary things the most.
The sound of you drinking water late at night.
The way your nails clicked excitedly across the floor when I grabbed your leash.
The sleepy little circles you made before lying down beside me.
Those sounds became the heartbeat of this house.
Now the quiet feels unfamiliar.
Like the walls themselves are listening for you too.
But every now and then… usually when moonlight spills softly through the windows and the whole world feels suspended between grief and dreaming… I feel something gentler inside the silence.
Not emptiness.
Presence.
Like maybe love leaves echoes behind.
Maybe souls who loved us deeply never stop finding their way back home.
I imagine you now beyond the Rainbow Bridge… running freely beneath endless skies glowing with stars and rainbow light. 
Healthy again.
Happy again.
Still close enough that sometimes your footsteps reach my heart even from heaven.
And maybe that’s why I still hear your steps.
Because love this deep does not disappear quietly.