When I close my eyes, you come back in the quiet — not as a ghost, not as a dream, but as the part of you my heart refuses to lose.You appear the way memories do when they’re made of love — soft edges, warm light, a little blur where the hurt sits.Sometimes it feels like you’re still just out of reach, like if I breathed the right way you’d hop back into my hands and everything would make sense again. But the world is different now, and I’m learning how to walk through it with the space you left behind — a space that aches, but also glows because you were here.So when I close my eyes, I let you stay a moment longer, my sweet boy, because love doesn’t vanish just because the body does. It lingers, quiet and loyal, the way you always were.