Within twelve months, I lost my mother, my brother, my niece, and my grandfather. There was no time to recover. One death followed another until grief stopped feeling like something I was going through and became the place I lived. This piece is about what remains when loss takes too much, too quickly. The figures around me are memory, absence, and the people I still reach for before remembering they are gone. People call survival strength. Sometimes it feels more like punishment. The funerals end. The world keeps moving. And you are left carrying love with nowhere left to put it. I watched them all go. And I stayed. Not healed. Not victorious. Just still here.