The line fell quiet,
    signals uncertain—
    static crackling through the ether,

    space your words used to fill.

Vegas brought silence…
      my messages unanswered,
      WhatsApp left wondering—

      blocked or just paused?

Last night I broke,
     voice memo drifting,
     cautious but hopeful—

     "Still there?"

You replied:
    “Still struggling,
      but still here”—
                faint,
               gentle,
  beautifully present.

Relief overwhelmed,
       helplessness followed close—
              the ache of distance,
                  the wish to help,

              and… knowing I can’t.

I’ll hold your space softly,
     not to crowd the quiet,
   careful not to overwhelm—
           baseball updates,
                quiet songs,

     just presence, no push.

I’m still here,
          listening,
          tuned carefully
          to your frequency—

Ready whenever you are, Mari.

Peace on standby.