To Those Who Don’t

R. Alexander

This is not for those who have never had anywhere to go… that’s the most obvious kind of lonely. I'm not talking to those people.

Because honestly, they're the "lucky" ones.

They’re sad, sure, and maybe they ache a little when the holiday cards show up...

“From Us to You”

This letter is for the ones who did have a place... at one point.

The ones who used to have somewhere to go. Who used to belong somewhere. Expected to be there.

This is for the ones who have memories of the long tables, tiny family arguments, awkward kisses on cheek, the small talk, the little traditions.

The belonging that slipped away and seats that simply aren’t theirs anymore.

This is for the ones who take a few more pills than prescribed just to get through.

The ones who don’t move. Don’t shower.

The ones who put their phones on DnD so they don’t have to see GIFs and warm holiday wishes.

Stupid fucking wishbones and parades.

This is for the people who have to put on a face at the work potluck. Having to spin fake plans out of air because “nothing” isn’t an acceptable answer in polite workplace conversation.

I’m not going to say “I wish you peace.”

That’s bullshit. It’s cliché. It’s impossible for some of us.

What I will wish are quick hands on the clock.

That the hours move fast.

That the ache softens.

That the days pass quietly for all of us.

I don’t have a closer.

I don’t have a profound final line.

Just the truth:

Some of us aren’t grieving a person.

We’re grieving the places we used to exist.

And that is its own kind of heartbreak.