Tag: reflective writing

When Your Voice Fell Silent

You live in every corner of my heart.
I hear your voice 
In the quiet pauses 
And gentle glances that fill a room.
I think about you most during 
Ordinary moments. 

Thinking back, when I was young,
You were strong
And the world seemed safe.
You hugged me tight
And I thought you’d 
Never let me go.

Now, I remember you most
When time stole your thoughts
And memories.

You’d look to me
In the confusing moments.
I’d smile,
Hug you tight,
And you knew 
You were safe.

As your thoughts 
Disappeared into the haze,
I held your hand tight
And reminded you
That you were safe.

I wish I had hugged you tighter
But I didn’t realize it would be
Our last hug.

When your voice fell silent 
I heard my soul break
Into a million small memories
That don’t fit together
But that define
Us together
More than any
Mere words.

02/03/2025

If you’d like to read more poetry, try these links.

My Mother, Myself – Jan Mariet’s A Day in the Life

Time to Rise Again (Poetry) – Jan Mariet’s A Day in the Life

Poetry Archives – Jan Mariet’s A Day in the Life

When Change Sneaks Up on You

An image of the author at her desk, looking out the window at her yard and garden. This is a stylized, decorative photo symbolizing how much she wants to be out in the world, but must be on the inside, looking out.

Every once in a while, it sneaks up on me when I’m doing something ordinary: reading, writing a story, making a list, thinking about what needs to get done that day. Then suddenly it hits me that not so long ago, this same moment would have been effortless. I wouldn’t have planned it. I wouldn’t have had to pace myself. I wouldn’t have wondered whether I’d still be functional tomorrow.

What’s strange is how normal this life feels now. I’ve adapted. I’ve learned workarounds. I’ve adjusted expectations so gradually that over time, I’ve barely noticed them changing. Because of that, it can be hard to remember just how much has been lost.

I remember being able to do a full day’s work and still having energy left. I remember thinking clearly without effort. When I wanted to be social or go out to eat, I didn’t need to calculate the cost – both physical and financial. For the most part, I could trust my body and my brain to show up when I needed them.

I don’t dwell there often; you can’t survive if you do. But sometimes I miss that version of myself; not with bitterness, just with a quiet ache. And it’s not because this life has no value, but because it took so much adapting that the contrast only becomes clear in moments of stillness.

And then I take a breath, smile, and keep going, because this is the life in front of me now.  Then I settle back into the quiet rhythm of the day and I’m glad to be alive.

For more reflective writing by Jan Mariet, try Living with Invisible Losses: Finding Meaning in Chronic Illness – Jan Mariet’s A Day in the Life

When the Table Was Full – Jan Mariet’s A Day in the Life or

When the Storm Changes You – Jan Mariet’s A Day in the Life.