Some words don’t disappear with time

 Some words don’t disappear with time…

they stay trapped inside the walls,
inside old blankets,
inside the silence after goodbye.

I still hear you in this house.

Not barking.
Not running.

Just existing in the tiny memories nobody else notices.

The sound your collar made when you stretched awake.
The little sigh you gave before falling asleep beside me.
The way your paws hurried toward me when I whispered your name.

Those sounds never really left.

People think grief fades quietly…
but sometimes it echoes.

Sometimes one small memory can bring the whole ache back in seconds.

A toy under the couch.
A patch of fur on an old sweater.
The habit of calling for you before realizing you’re gone.

And the hardest part?

Your name still feels alive in my mouth.

Because love like yours doesn’t vanish.
It settles into the heart permanently…
like words the soul refuses to forget.

Maybe that’s why I still talk to you sometimes when nobody’s around.

Because somewhere beyond the clouds…
beyond the Rainbow Bridge…
I hope your spirit still recognizes my voice.