I didn’t see it happen.
Didn’t hear the fall.
Just Mum,
Standing there
“Your Bamp’s had a heart attack.” (Grandad)
And everything stopped.

He was always the one who moved.
Fixing things.
Lifting things.
Carrying the weight no one else would.
He held the whole house
like it was made of threads
only he could keep from breaking.

And maybe we let him.
Maybe we let him
do too much,
be too much,
because he never said no.

Now he’s in the hospital.
Machines where his strength used to be.
I haven’t seen him.
Don’t know if I’ll get to.
And it’s dark.
It’s so dark without him.

The silence feels wrong,
like something is caving in—
like the roof can’t hold
without the hands
that always kept it steady.

We took him for granted.
We thought he’d always be here,
shoulders squared,
making the impossible look normal.

But now…
we don’t know if he’s coming back.
And that thought—
it guts me.

I just want him to come home.
To hear someone say
it’s not too late.
That he can still make it.

Because I don’t know
how we’re supposed to live
in a world
he no longer holds up.