They said loss is common,
as if that made it lighter—
as if a breaking heart
could be explained away.

August 6th—
the day silence answered me.
Three months of hope,
of whispered dreams,
of a child I had already begun to love—
gone without a goodbye.

And still,
I carried that absence,
like a quiet shadow
no one else could fully see.

But time…
time has a way of holding both
sorrow and surprise
in the same hands.

Because the next August came—
not empty,
not silent—
but full.

August 10th—
a cry instead of quiet,
breath instead of absence,
life placed gently into my arms.

Elianah.
An answered prayer.

And somehow,
she did not erase the loss—
she sat beside it.

A living reminder
that even after breaking,
the heart can still open again.

That love does not replace love—
it multiplies.

So now I carry both Augusts:
one that took,
and one that gave.

Both sacred.
Both mine.