Grief in a child is quiet sometimes
Not always tears, not always words
But questions asked in small voices
About someone who is no longer there
It lives in moments you might miss
In the way they pause at bedtime
In the empty space beside them
In the stories they no longer hear
They may laugh, then suddenly fall still
As if remembering all over again
As if their heart is learning
In pieces what it cannot hold at once
Sometimes it shows in restless nights
In clinging hands that won’t let go
In eyes that search familiar places
For someone they still expect to see
And still, they carry love so gently
In drawings, in dreams, in whispered names,
Learning slowly, day by day
That love remains, even when someone is gone