unleashingthoughts2

Stacy…

I am furious that you’re gone.

I don’t even know where to put it,
this anger that has nowhere to land
because there is no one to argue with anymore,
no one to call,
no one to bring this back to.

Just… silence.

And an empty chair.

That damn empty chair.

The one that still feels like it should move,
like you should walk back into it
mid-story, mid-laugh, mid-life—
like nothing ever had the right to take you out of it.

But you’re not there.

And it doesn’t make sense.

You were the heart of it all.
The center without trying to be.
The one who held people together
without even asking for credit for it.

The family referee.
The one who smoothed things over
before things broke too far apart.
The one who could look at everyone
and somehow make peace out of chaos
just by being in the room.

And now the room feels wrong.

Too quiet.
Too still.
Too unfinished.

I keep waiting for your laugh.
That real laugh—
the one that made everything feel lighter,
like life couldn’t stay heavy around you for long.

And it doesn’t come.

And I hate that.

I hate that I notice it every time.

You were the kindest person.
The kind of kind that wasn’t performative—
it was just who you were.

A forgiving heart that made room for people
even when they didn’t deserve it.
Even when they failed you.
Even when it would’ve been easier not to.

And now I sit here with all of that love you gave away
still moving through people…

but you’re not here to receive any of it back.

That’s what makes me break.

Not just that you’re gone—
but that the world still turns
like it didn’t lose something irreplaceable.

I am angry.

I am shattered.

I am trying to be grateful you are not suffering anymore
while also screaming inside
that it should not have been this way.

That chair should not be empty.

Your laugh should not be missing.

You should still be here
holding us together
like you always did
without ever asking for anything in return.

Stacy…

you were the glue,
the peace,
the softness in a world that isn’t soft enough.

And I don’t know how to accept
that I can’t hear you again.

I just know I will spend a lifetime
missing you in every room you used to fill.