The Empty Chair

It's been six months since Dad passed, and I still set the table for four instead of three. Last night, I caught myself making his favorite tea — Earl Grey, two sugars — before remembering. I sat there watching the steam rise from the cup I'd made for a ghost. Mum came in, saw what I'd done, and didn't say a word. She just sat down in his chair and drank the tea. We cried together for the first time since the funeral. Grief is love with nowhere to go.