A house is not a home.

For all the aching souls in empty homes.

A house is not a home. Your home exists, even if your house disappears. Filling your house with the laughter of loved ones, having dinner parties together, making fuzzy memories with the ones that make you eternally grateful to be alive. Those memories together, they make a house a home. Feeling safe and cared for, being able to feel vulnerable and most importantly feeling loved that’s what makes a house a home.

Sadly, sometimes the ones that make your house a home cannot stay with you, they pass on and leave behind a great void. You might feel numb and lost, or angry, or maybe desperate and yet, the world doesn’t stop while you grief. You are expected to carry on in the home that all of a sudden feels like a dark mansion. It’s always hardest for the ones staying behind making sense of it all. No words seem comforting, no task manageable and the wish and the longing for a happily ever after just vanishes into thin air right in front of your eyes.

My heart goes out to all the aching souls, the ones that lost husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, friends – the families we make for ourselves. I feel your sorrow and I know that there is nothing that can be done or said that will in any way lessen the all-consuming pain. No gesture is big enough, no noise loud enough, no color bright enough. The house is still a house, no comfort to be found in there.

The pain will never seize to exist, somewhere there will always be that little twitch, reminding you of different times. But know this, you are loved. You are cared for and your house will become a home again. Maybe not the one that you had wished for, maybe not the one that you painted in your wildest dreams, but it will be a home again.

The memories you made, with the ones you love what might seem like a lifetime ago, continue to exist. The laughter early in the morning still echoing through the rooms, the happiness you felt the very first time your family set foot into your new home, all of these feelings are still there, hiding beneath all the pain you are feeling.

I am sorry for your loss, sorry for all the years that you were looking forward to sharing with the ones you love. I am sorry for the memories that you wanted to make, that now you cannot make together anymore. I am sorry for the pain you feel and the grief that stricken your heart. I am sorry for the tears you cry, that never seem to end. And most importantly, I am sorry for the emptiness you feel in the house that only a few days ago was your home.

But know, that through all of that you don’t stand alone, know that bonds don’t disappear. And most importantly, know that you are loved and that love is what will keep your house a home, even if it seems impossible at the moment.

For all the aching souls

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2 thoughts on “A house is not a home.

  1. Well written and you’ve thrown light on a really important aspect of our lives. Indeed, a house is not a home! It’s the love that matters forever till the end of time……

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